


Far, Far Away

by BattleFries



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: No Spoilers for Post-Launch Content (Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic), Post-Episode: s07e22 Chosen, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:48:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23691118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BattleFries/pseuds/BattleFries
Summary: Two Slayers find themselves in a strange galaxy and separated from each other.  Alone, they are each set down opposite paths.  One is trained in the ways of the Jedi, and the other in the ways of the Sith.  Armed with years of experience with saving the Earth from vampires and demons - and now armed with the Force - now they must survive the dangers of this new galaxy.  And they must not give up on finding the other again, for it is not only their homes, but each other, from whom they find themselves far, far away....(Originally posted on Twisting the Hellmouth and fanfiction.net quite some time ago under the user names LegacyWeapon and BattleFries, respectively.  Being new to this site, I am posting it here and doing a bit of editing to try and improve a few things from the original.)
Relationships: Buffy Summers/Original Female Character(s), Faith Lehane/Buffy Summers
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	1. Buffy I - Peace Is a Lie

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or from Star Wars, be it from The Old Republic or from anything else. There are a number of original characters that will appear in this story, but apart from them, these characters and the worlds they come from belong to their creators, not to me. I have one other story in the Buffy setting so far posted on AO3, but for the sake of this story, the events of Faith's backstory in 'The Hardest Thing in This World' do not apply to 'Far, Far Away.' The first draft of this story was written years before I had even thought of writing the other one, and the two are not connected.
> 
> This story takes place an indeterminate time after the end of the Buffy TV series, and during the events of the Prologue and Chapters I - III of The Old Republic. While some events may be similar to the ones in the game, the characters will follow their own story and not any of the ones that are available to players, though this story will run parallel to the others. There will be no spoilers for any story content after what was available at launch back in December of 2011.
> 
> With all of that out of the way, thank you for taking the time to take a look at this story, and I hope you enjoy your stay. ^_^

“Peace is a lie. There is only passion.”

Buffy knew even before she heard the rest of the Sith Code that it was completely false, but she humored Overseer Dalen regardless. The man did hold her life in his hands, and it grated on Buffy to be in such a position. Still, the Overseer wasn't unreasonable. He was fairly lean with fair skin, short dark hair, and blue eyes that always seemed to be holding something back. Or maybe in check?

“Through passion, we gain strength," Dalen recited. " Through strength, we gain power. Through power, we gain victory. Through victory, our chains are broken. The Force shall set us free.”

Buffy decided to actually ponder the words, and she decided that there might be some truth to them, particularly the last line. She hadn’t been in this universe or dimension or whatever-it-was for very long, but it was evident that she was sensitive to this ‘Force.' Even if she hadn't been, her life as a Slayer had been by definition one of conflict. Supposedly, if she could control this new gift, she could be like a Slayer and a witch combined. Maybe then, she'd have the power to change her current fate.

“Now then, Acolyte Summers,” Overseer Dalen said, “tell me what you believe the Code of the Sith is meant to teach us.”

Buffy was the only student assigned to Dalen at the moment, which seemed odd, given what she understood about the Sith power structure. Only the most powerful and influential of their lords tended to take individual apprentices on this planet called Korriban, and this Overseer wasn't among that number. More than that, Buffy knew her own strength, and having powerful students seemed to be a privilege. Either Buffy wasn’t nearly as good as she thought she was, or else Dalen was playing a game of some sort. From what little she knew, the Sith were all about power plays, so it wouldn't surprise her.

For now, however, she had to play his stupid little game. “Well,” Buffy mused, “conflict is the norm, I’ll give you that. You focus on the conflict for long enough, it becomes second nature to you. You let your passion feed your momentum into strength, then into power, and then into victory. And when you beat the other guy, you win.”

“On a small scale, you may be right, Summers,” Dalen said. “But the Code is more than just advice for how to win a petty brawl. You are right that conflict is the status quo, and conflict is fueled by passion. As Sith, we do not hide or run from this truth: we embrace it. We realize that through conflict – through passion – is the path to freedom over all things, be they people or institutions or even death itself. The Emperor is a testament to that.”

The way Dalen and everyone else spoke about the Emperor, he sounded more like a god than anything else. Whatever he was, he was powerful, and the Sith respected power. “And this is all meant to be done alone?” Buffy asked, her voice holding more than a hint of challenge. “From what I can tell, the Sith don't really play well with others. Power and freedom for one comes at the expense of everyone else, right? If that’s true, then why are you even passing on your knowledge to me, let alone have a whole academy?”

“An astute observation,” Dalen said approvingly, to Buffy's surprise. “You show remarkable insight for one of such low station, Summers." Buffy scowled at that. Her 'low station' was a result of being taken prisoner and then being deemed 'worthy' to study here instead of wasting away as a slave. "The Sith value the individual over the group, this is true. The Jedi would have you believe that empowering the weak strengthens the whole, but in truth it only serves to drag down the truly strong for the sake of the unworthy. As for why we teach others the ways of the Dark Side, we understand that the Emperor is truly a unique individual. He has always embodied the Sith, and he always will, and we are all instruments of His will. The rest of us are only mortal, and to ensure that only the strongest, most capable of individuals endure to serve the Empire, we run you all through the gauntlet here on Korriban.”

Buffy wasn’t buying it. “So, the Sith never have any allies, then? The way you're describing it, the Sith have a bit of a superiority complex, both individually and as a group. How can you succeed against a unified enemy like the Jedi without anyone else's help?"

“Quite simply, Summers, we don't. The Sith seek power wherever they find it. Allies can prove valuable sources of power, but they can also turn on you. This holds true for mentors and students as well. One of the deepest traditions of the Sith is that of the student surpassing the Master and taking his place. It ensures that only the strong endure to pass on that very strength.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Buffy said, trying to put into words the philosophy that ran counter to everything she believed in. “An ally is only as useful as I can keep them under control or until they aren’t useful anymore, and then they should be discarded, right?” The idea was repugnant and simply stupid to the Slayer-turned-acolyte.

“Exactly," Dalen said, unaware or uncaring of Buffy's disgust. "Take the Chiss Ascendancy for example. When the Empire came into their space, they recognized our superiority and offered an alliance in exchange for autonomy. Now, to be frank, the idea of alien allies is antithetical to Sith ideals, but so is turning away a source of power. The Chiss are a cunning people with a culture that has primed them for military service, and they recognize the merits of the individual. Subjugating them without need would cost the Empire time and resources, while an alliance gains us both soldiers and legitimacy among other non-human civilizations. It empowers us with personnel, ships, equipment, and an alternative to Republic propaganda that the Empire brings only death and subjugation to alien species.”

From what Buffy had gathered, that was very different from the Sith ideal. Until very recently, as she understood it, only humans and Red Sith could ever be free in the Empire, but to increase their ranks, aliens who could use the Force were being allowed to train here on Korriban. “So, you’re saying that aliens should be treated equally?” Buffy prompted carefully. She tried to make herself sound even more skeptical than she already was.

Dalen showed a sly sort of smirk. “It is one of several radical positions that has earned me such low esteem among my fellows. I share that in common with you, Summers. You were found on Denova with no knowledge of the Empire, the Republic, the Jedi, or anything resembling knowledge of galactic civilization. Most Sith saw you as weak, but I see your potential to be molded into something truly strong and deadly.”

Buffy snorted as a few pieces fell into place. “In other words, I’m a tool for you to gain power, at least until I’ve outlived my usefulness.”

Dalen smiled again, and Buffy felt her spine crawl at the look on his face. “Exactly. And to prove your usefulness, we come to your first trial here on Korriban. You’ve spent time in the archives, and you’ve listened to my lectures, but now you must prove yourself in combat. The Tomb of Ajunta Pall has been overrun by k’lor slugs, and their main nest is in the Tomb’s armory. Make your way to the armory, destroy the infestation, and return with a blade befitting a warrior of your power. Your time with a training blade has run its course. Do you have any questions before I send you out there, Acolyte Summers?”

 _Finally!_ Buffy thought. It was long past time she had a good slay. Standing up, she stretched her arms and legs a bit. “Time limit?” she asked, not bothering with any other questions that wouldn't get her anywhere.

“None,” Dalen replied crisply. “But if you return without that war blade, then your time is over. Understood?”

“Perfectly,” Buffy said through gritted teeth. The horrible part was that she did understand just how powerless she was surrounded by Sith. “Just point me in the direction of the sluggy goodness.”

* * *

Buffy wiped the sweat from her forehead with a bloody hand after clearing the hall of the k’lor slugs. “All right, then. Take care of a few slugs, sure, no problem.” Buffy had been expecting bugs that she could just step on if she had to. Monsters taller than her were not what she had in mind. Hell, their mouths were big enough to swallow her whole.

Her training blade was bloody and well-used, but it showed no signs of breaking. It was made out of something called cortosis, which supposedly could withstand laser blasts. A few of the mature slugs spit slime, and Buffy had managed to move the blade to catch the slime, or at least have it splash around her blade instead of hitting her head on.

That was something else she’d not been expecting: the Force wasn’t just something she had read about now. She could feel it coursing through and around her and everything she saw, and her hand moved her blade almost as if she knew what the creatures were going to do a split second before they did. Even with her Slayer senses, it wasn't something she could have done before. It felt like the universe was made of some invisible, intangible stuff that needed just the right nudge to move in the way she wanted. Buffy had already managed to use that microscopic bit of precognition to her advantage, and as she progressed through the tomb, she was learning how to enhance her own strength and reflexes by drawing on this 'Force,' whatever it might be.

As she walked, some unspoken thing told her that the armory was just around the next torch-lit corner. Was it the Force? Whatever it was, around the corner, Buffy found a long set of stairs leading up to a chamber, and Buffy could tell without knowing how that there were five fully mature k’lor slugs in the room protecting dozens of eggs.

Without thinking, Buffy jumped. Acting purely on instinct, Buffy felt the Force carry her through the air and over the stairs to bring her training sword straight down through the skull of one of the slugs. She felt hot blood stain her body, and it pissed her off.

A tiny little voice in the back of her mind said, ‘Peace is a lie. There is only passion.’ 

In the heat of combat, Buffy finally felt the truth of the Sith Code. “Through passion,” she said, slicing through another slug’s neck, “I gain strength.”

She leaped onto the back of a third slug. “Through strength…” Her blade sank into the creature’s spine, paralyzing it, “I gain power.”

Buffy felt it now. The power of the Force wasn’t just around her, it was inside her. “Through power,” she growled as she thrust out an arm at another slug, crushing it against the wall, “I gain victory.”

The last adult slug moved forward to devour her. “Through victory,” Buffy yelled as she thrust her blade into the k’lor slug’s mouth, penetrating its brain, “my chains are broken.”

Buffy let go of her training blade and felt for the strongest source of power in the room. Without thinking, without knowing how, she reached out a hand and summoned a wicked-looking serrated war-blade to her, grasping it by the hilt.

Lifting up her new sword into the air, Buffy brought it down into the ground and sent a shockwave through the room, shattering all of the eggs and killing the k’lor slugs inside.

“The Force shall set me free.”

Buffy felt as if she was floating on air. The power she felt, that she had just used, was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Was this what being Willow felt like?

The elation of victory powered Buffy’s battered body through the tomb and back out onto the sands to the Academy. The sky told her that she’d been out for a full day, at least. She didn’t feel tired at all. “Through victory, my chains are broken,” she said again.

* * *

As she passed across the desert sands and stone of Korriban and back through the dark corridors of the Sith Academy, Buffy felt eyes on her. Other students, and even some instructors, could not help but recognize the walking body covered from head to toe in purple blood. Buffy could sense that she was being assessed as a potential future adversary. No longer was she just the student of some eccentric overseer, but a real threat to be taken seriously. It felt good, but remembering that she stood in a hall filled with rivals who would literally kill her for power, Buffy made sure to stride purposefully and carry herself with her head held high. She might be new to the Force, but she was no stranger to looking strong in the face of adversity.

Winding her way through the passages, Buffy found herself at Overseer Dalen’s study. The elation from her victory over the slugs was fading, and now she was fully aware of the stench of blood and innards on her body. And then the memory of the bloodlust as she killed the slugs returned, and Buffy felt even dirtier. After a moment's thought, Buffy dispelled those feelings. Slaying mosnters was more than her job, it was her calling. She was meant to kill things like those slugs, and it wasn't as if she never felt good about killing vampires and demons back home. These were just demons of a different sort.

Despite all of that, a part of her didn’t want to admit that the Sith were right. The idea of being friendless and alone in a mad rush for power was just so alien to Buffy. Enjoying that for any reason just seemed wrong.

Still, Buffy was stuck here, so she knocked on Dalen’s door. It swung open seemingly on its own, but Buffy knew that the Overseer had used the Force to open it.

Striing in, Buffy casually dropped the bloody war-blade on Dalen’s desk, dirtying many a datapad and paper document in the process.

Dalen did not look up. “Well done, Summers. Go and rid the stink from yourself and then return to me. Then we will see to the proper care of your new blade. Go now.”

Buffy didn’t like the cool dismissal in his tone, but Dalen was a strange Sith. He wasn’t particularly cruel or malicious, but he did have exacting standards and a low tolerance for disobedience. She’d once had her voice robbed from her while restrained in a chair as Dalen lectured her. He was powerful for someone who was only an Overseer, which ranked beneath a full Sith Lord. From what Buffy understood, he could have been such a Lord if he was a more proper Sith.

Not wanting to incur anyone's wrath, even that of of a peculiar Overseer, Buffy simply nodded and took her blade with her. She didn’t want to let it out of her sight. As she turned around to leave Dalen's office, Buffy's thoughts went back to the battleground she’d been ‘found’ on. The Sith had taken her as a prisoner on that world - Denova - during a battle with the Republic, and for all the time she’d been here on Korriban, Buffy hadn’t forgotten the most important question that she absolutely needed to have answered.

What had happened to Faith?


	2. Faith I - There Is No Emotion

“There is no emotion, there is peace.”

Faith knew even before she heard the rest of the Jedi Code that it was completely false, but she humored Master Ralto regardless. The man had saved her life, after all. Kinda. And yes, he was a man, despite being very much not-human. Oddly enough, he wasn't even a demon, but an alien. Then again, Faith was surrounded on all sides by alien kids of all sorts, so he wasn't that strange. Ralto was a Nautolan, and he had blue skin, large and solid black eyes, and strange head-tentacles of some sort that looked like he was part squid. Maybe whatever planet he came from was an ocean world?

“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.”

Faith decided to actually ponder the words, and she decided that there might be some truth to them, particularly the last line. She hadn’t been in this universe or dimension or whatever-it-was for very long, but it was evident that she was sensitive to this ‘Force.' Her entire life, both as a Slayer and long before, had been filled with conflict, and she'd learned the hard way how pointless it could be to fight without stop. It had taken a while, but for most of her life, she had wanted to die. As a result, the notion of 'no death, only the Force' didn't seem so bad. She wasn't sure if she believed it entirely, but it was a nice way to look at things, to be sure. And if she could ever control this new gift, she could be like a Slayer and a witch combined. Maybe then she'd be able to understand how she'd ended up in this superbly weird galaxy.

“Now then, Padawan Lehane,” Master Ralto said, “what do you believe the Jedi Code is meant to teach us?”

Faith felt incredibly awkward in the center of the classroom, filled with other students of all ages - mostly far younger than she was - and of so many different species, almost none of which she remembered the names for, despite being told repeatedly. Tython was neither Sunnydale nor Boston, but she’d had enough of high school to last a lifetime. “I dunno,” Faith said with a sort of verbal shrug. “You're saying we're just supposed to turn off our emotions and let the Force take control or something? The world doesn’t work like that, Ra… Master Ralto.”

Faith saw the Nautolan Jedi Master smiled at Faith’s near-slip, and it made her feel even more embarrassed. She wasn’t used to calling anyone ‘master’ for any reason, but for Ralto, she'd play along and give him the respect she honestly believed that he was due. For one thing, it was clear that this was a mentor/student thing and _not_ a bondage thing or anything worse, and while no Watcher had ever insisted on such a title, Gwendolyn Post might've wanted something like that, only with submission instead of respect. As for Ralto, the man had successfully subdued her and calmed her down she’d mistaken him for a demon and tried to kill him. And after that, he went so far as to forgive her. Faith had not met a lot of people who would be that generous, but Ralto was an all right guy and then some. So she'd call him by his title to make things up to him if nothing else.

“It is not like that, Padawan Lehane," Master Ralto answered, bringing Faith back into the here and now. "But I can see how a new initiate might get that perception.”

Faith didn't quite resent the title of ‘Padawan,’ but she did not like it. Ralto had earned a lot of Faith's respect, but there was only so much that she could tolerate. Everybody here had a title of some sort. It was either ‘Master This’ or ‘Jedi That’ or 'You, Padawan.' It just sounded so Sesame Street to Faith. “Then what is the Jedi Code like?” she asked, trying not to snarl. Despite that, she could hear the challenge in her words, even if she hand't meant it.

Ralto just smiled serenely and paced at the front of the classroom. “Jedi calm their emotions to avoid distractions and attachment. We must remain impartial in order to be proper peacekeepers. By refusing to accept ignorance, we seek out what we do not know and make it part of our knowledge. Jedi must be ruled by logic. Passion clouds our judgment, and so we seek calm at all times. Chaos can reign over others, but if we accept that there will always be some things over which we have no control, then we will reach a state of harmony with ourselves.”

“What about that last part, Master Ralto?” Faith asked, wondering just how literal it was meant to be. “How is there ‘no death?’ That’s not possible, unless you believe what the Sith say about their Emperor.”

At this, some of the younger students began whispering loudly among themselves. Faith belatedly realized that some of the kids probably didn’t know much about the Sith or their Empire.

Master Ralto remained calm and closed his eyes. A feeling of peace fell over the classroom, and Faith felt herself relax as the room went quiet. And then she realized that Ralto was casting some sort of spell over the class to calm them down, and she felt a spike of indignant anger inside of her.

“When we say ‘there is no death,’” Ralto explained, “we do not mean that death is not a real thing. It is simply not the end of existence. The Force is a part of all things, and all things are a part of the Force. When we die, our bodies, minds, and spirits do not leave the Force, and the Force does not leave them. We continue on, but in another form. It may not be a form with consciousness or with physical being, but we all endure through the Force, which then gives life to all other things. Thus, all life is eternal, from a certain point of view.”

That was one answer, but after Ralto's lecture, Faith had more questions. “You say the Jedi are ‘peacekeepers.’ We’re supposed to stay impartial and keep the balance, yadda yadda yadda. And yet, you all carry laser swords and train for war while the Sith want to wipe you all out. How do you stay ‘impartial peacekeepers’ with all of that going on?”

Ralto sighed, and Faith felt a hint of impatience that was something more than just a bit of intuition. “The galaxy was not always at war," Ralto said, his patient voice straining. "Before the Sith invaded, we had three centuries of peace throughout the galaxy. The Jedi Civil War just over three hundred years ago is something that we only now are beginning to understand was but a precursor to this invasion. As Jedi, we strive for a galaxy at peace, and when that happens, we will act to keep that peace. But the central tenet of the Sith Empire is that peace cannot exist. So long as such evil exists, it must be the duty of the Jedi to oppose them at any cost."

“And by ‘oppose,’” Faith said, “you mean you have to kill them all, right?”

“Not necessarily,” Ralto said. “Might I have a moment in private, Padawan Lehane?”

Faith got the sense that she had crossed a line, but she quietly nodded and rose from her seat at her desk. She whispered a brief apology to the class at large and followed the Nautolan teacher out into the hallway.

Once he stopped, Faith took a breath and looked him in the eyes. “Look, Master Ralto, I’m…”

“I know, I know. You’re sorry and you didn’t mean to cause trouble. I understand, Faith. You come from a life full of much conflict, and you are quite set in your ways. Most Jedi come to Tython to train at a very young age. You are old for a Padawan, but full of potential. There is darkness in your past, but also a great yearning for good and for justice. I sense you will accomplish much, but perhaps a classroom is not the proper venue for training someone of your nature.”

Faith had to chuckle at that, and Ralto smiled along with her. Faith reaffirmed to herself that the Nautolan was a decent guy. “You got that right. So, what do you think I should do?”

“Why don’t you take a taxi out to the training grounds in the Gnarls and let the Masters there teach you how to swing that practice sword that you’ve been itching to use.”

“What? I thought you said the Jedi were all about peace and not hitting stuff.”

Ralto took a deep breath. “The sad truth is that the Jedi are in need of capable warriors, and you are quite capable already. Perhaps in learning the forms of the lightsaber, you will come to know our ways better. And for what it is worth, I am sorry if I have not been properly considerate of your past and of your circumstances. I fear I may have lost my patience back there.”

Faith had to work not to laugh, if only because the man was so serious. "No, Master Ralto, no. It's my bad," Faith said. "I'm here, not knowing stuff, and I'm pushing your buttons without even knowing what they are. And I get that it's been like this for a while. And I've seen people losing their patience. You haven't, not even close."

Ralto smiled thinly and placed a comforting hand on Faith's shoulder. "You may not quite have the temperament of a Jedi yet, Faith, but you have the spirit of one. Your kindness and thoughtfulness are virtues to be treasured, and it is from there that I sense you will do much in the way of good for this galaxy. But for now, why don't you go and work out with your training blade. I know how much you've been itching to stretch your muscles, and while I wish it were not so, we may need warriors in the near future." Removing his shoulder, Ralto bowed his head in respect. "May the Force be with you, Faith." 

"Right back at you, Master Ralto," Faith said as she turned on her heel and made to leave the confines of the Jedi Temple. For a moment, she thought she could sense Ralto shaking his head and smiling, his head tresses - not tentacles - shaking as he went back to his classroom. Faith was looking directly away from him, but she still knew that he’d been doing just that. Was it the Force at work? Regardless of the reason, she was grateful for Ralto's understanding, even if she thought he was giving her too much credit. Faith was a screw-up for the most part, and her history tended to be trying to do the right thing and messing up because of it, or at least that's how she saw it. Sometimes she'd been manipulated, and other times it had been her own damned fault.

Whatever the case, Ralto was right that Faith really wanted to hit something right now. Faith strode out of the open arch that served as the entrance to the temple and out in the cool air of the mountain forests that surrounded the Jedi enclave. Faith took a deep breath, both to steady her nerves and to simply savor the moment. The air just smelled nice here on Tython. It wasn't quite as cold as Boston in winter, but after so much time in California, Faith had started to miss the crisp, cool, and dry air that came from a colder climate. After taking a moment for herself, Faith hopped into the backseat of a droid-piloted speeder and asked it to take her to the Gnarls. The name meant nothing to Faith, but it was a green, hilly area that served as a training ground. There was plenty of room for apprentices to spread out without getting in each others' way. Faith reveled in the cold air rushing by her as she was taken up a dirt road through a forested area and up to open grassy plains of the Gnarls, above which towered majestic, snow-topped mountains.

Not a second after Faith hopped out of the speeder, a Jedi was immediately upon her. “Padawan! What are you doing here?!” the human woman exclaimed. She was about Faith's age, maybe a little older, but her robes marked her as a Jedi Knight. The differences in robes were subtle, but Faith had learned what to look for. "The training grounds aren’t safe! Didn’t our message reach the Temple?”

“Dunno,” Faith answered, sounding more casual than she felt. If there was trouble, then whatever distress call had been sent had either not arrived yet or else gotten lost or intercepted. “Maybe not yet. What’s the problem? Maybe I can I help,” she offered

“No," the Jedi warned, her braided brown hair swaying in the wind as she shook her head with worry. "Not unless you’re prepared to take on a small army of Flesh Raiders.”

Faith’s hand went to the handle of her practice sword. “What’s a Flesh Raider, and how do I kill one?” This was familiar territory. Monsters, demons, aliens, whatever it was, there was some sort of threat to the people, and Faith was a Slayer. Killing the monsters was her calling. Not that she could really explain that to the sometimes-pacifistic Jedi, but right here and now, maybe she could help.

“Peace, Padawan,” the Jedi woman said, though Faith thought that she was trying to calm herself down more than anything else. “I recognize you, now. You’re Master Ralto’s student. The one he found on Denova, yes?”

“Yeah, that’s what they tell me,” Faith said. She was starting to accept the version of events that everyone was telling her. She'd been knocked unconscious for a while, and she didn't know the name of whatever place she'd been found, so she just let everyone else draw their own conclusions.

“Hm. You might be able to hold your own. Until reinforcements arrive, we'll have to consolidate our forces. The last I heard, a group of Padawans was trapped in the mountains by a gang of Flesh Raiders. They’re Tython’s natives, and they are a nasty sort. They’re smart enough to use blasters and blades, and they eat their kills. I’ll mark the position where the Padawans were last seen on your map. Normally, I wouldn’t send you alone, but right now, we have no choice.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Faith said. “I’ll find ‘em and bring them back nice and safe.”

So, it was a rescue mission now. Faith could deal with this, probably. "Two things. Are they a gang like organized crime, or just a group? And how many Flesh Raiders per gang, do you think? Second, do they have any fancy tricks to them? Anything that keeps them from dying from wounds you or I would die from?"

The Jedi woman breathed a sigh of what felt to Faith like both relief and frustration. “I used 'gang' just as a name for a group. Somewhere between five and ten of them. Normally, I wouldn't think of sending a lone student, but I heard about your situation... Anyway, that's not important right now. Flesh Raiders have tougher hides than human skin, but as far as I know, their vital organs are in approximately the same place as a human and most other standard biped species."

Faith nodded. "Got it. I'll be back with the kiddos ASAP." And with that, Faith took off towards the mountains. Holding out her wrist, Faith brought up a holographic map showing the surrounding area and where the kids distress beacon had come from. She'd have to go over a bridge and then cross a river to get where she was going.

As she inhaled, Faith felt herself breathe in more than just air, as if the energy of Tython itself was filling her with both life and vitality. With a burst of speed, Faith exhaled and took off faster than she’d ever run before.

Part of her wondered at her newfound speed. The Slayer package had included enhanced strength and endurance, which amounted to superhuman speed, but this was something else. Was it the Force? It didn't matter in the end, as when Faith arrived at the bridge, she saw a group of three ugly, hammer-headed things with guns in their hands which had to be Flesh Raiders. They saw her and started firing at her with horrific war cries.

Faith didn’t know what to think of them, other than how hideous they looked and that they were a threat to her. These creatures were the enemy, and they weren’t human. Then again, a lot of things weren’t human in this universe. If they were smart enough to use these weapons, could they have reasons for using them? Did they maybe have families they were trying to protect? Could Faith kill these things - these people - and not be a murderer?

As she deflected their blaster bolts without even thinking of it consciously, Faith felt a calm come over her as she sensed the evil inside of them. She saw without seeing the blood dripping from their lips, and she knew that they were creatures of darkness and violence.

Faith could almost hear Master Ralto’s kind voice telling her, ‘There is no emotion, there is peace.’

The Flesh Raiders were just barely more than feral, and yet they weren’t mindless monsters. Faith’s moved with practiced skill, and her blade ended their lives quickly and painlessly. She didn’t want to be a murderer, but she wasn’t about to stand by and let anyone else get hurt or killed if she could help it.

Faith crossed the bridge and waded into the river, swimming downstream a bit and then coming up on the other side. She was more of an urban tracker in recent years, not so much an outdoors woman, and she couldn’t see a path on the map from where she was now to where the Padawans had been.

A small turn of her head brought her into view of a small ridge of rock laying off to the side, and with a bout of clarity Faith realized that it didn’t have to be a boundary to her. “There is no ignorance,” she told herself as she jumped over the meters-high wall with ease. “There is knowledge.”

And now there was a path. It was just a faint foot-trail, but it was a path all the same. Faith stalked upwards, weapon at the ready, until she came upon a crudely-made metal cage with a dead Jedi child inside. Faith didn't recognize the species or gender, but the robes were unmistakable. She felt a swell of emotions. Anger at the Flesh Raiders. Shame that she hadn't gotten here faster. Fear that the others she was being sent to rescue were already dead.

Despite the presence of the cage there were no Flesh Raiders nearby, and Faith let out a breath, recognizing that she'd almost done what she'd always done and leaped into action without thinking, letting her emotions control her rather than the other way around. “There is no passion,” she realized. “There is serenity.”

She hurried further up the path, and in her haste, Faith didn't notice the five Flesh Raiders wielding swords and staves that surrounded her in an ambush. Before she could ready her weapon, Faith was forced to huddle up to protect herself from the slashes and beatings that she was receiving. She wanted to lash out, but the blows were coming so fast and from so many directions that she couldn’t get a clear read on which opponent was where and how they were positioned.

Faith inhaled again, and a soothing feeling overtook her, healing her wounds and clearing her head. This had to be the Force, she realized, and it was aiding her. “There is no chaos,” she whispered, just as she called upon the energy that she'd been told to tap into, and her opponents were all telekinetically thrown backward and to the ground, unconscious. “There is harmony." Faith rose to her feet and continued up the path.

It took a bit of hiking, but finally she saw an end to the path, and there were three young Padawans, maybe in their late teens, and one of them was injured. “There you are!” Faith said. “Are you guys all right?”

“We’re fine,” a human girl said. “Walt took a blaster bolt from a Flesh Raider, but we took it down. We can stay and fight.”

“That is not what the Jedi Code teaches us,” a horned Zabrak male said.

“I gotta agree,” Faith said. “You’re Walt, right? You are not gonna die on my watch, you hear me?”

Faith picked up the injured boy and carried him over her shoulder. “You are not going to die. There is no death, just the Force, you hear me?”

“Yes, I hear you,” the kid said.

“Atta boy. Let’s get you back to the Temple. Your distress beacon gave us a general location, but mine should be a bit more precise once we get to a clearing. Just a little bit further, hang on.”

* * *

The two other Padawans stood guard as they flanked Faith while she helped Walt down to the clearing by the river. A few minutes later, the sound of engines could be heard, and a shuttle was landing to take them all back to the Jedi Temple.

"Easy does it, Walt," Faith said as a pair of Jedi helped him onto the shuttle. "He took a pretty nasty hit. Do you think he'll be okay?"

"I think we can help him now that he's safely back with us," one of the Knights, a Kel Dor male said. "Why don't you rest for a moment yourself, Padawan?"

"Thanks, I think I will," Faith said as she took a seat and leaned back against the inner hull and let herself steady her breathing and come down from the rush of battle.

Not minutes later, they put down at a shuttle pad within the Jedi Temple itself. Walt was on a stretcher that was being taken quickly yet carefully to wherever it was that the Jedi took their wounded. Faith walked down the landing ramp afterwards and noticed a woman in a sleeveless brown tunic standing there with her hands folded in front of her. She had short, graying brown hair with twin braids on either side of her face. Faith got the impression that the woman was waiting for her, so she walked down to meet whomever this was.

“That was a very brave thing you did for those Padawans,” the woman said to Faith. Her voice was deep and smooth. It reminded her of Diana, her first watcher. Warm and caring, but also firm and able to asset her authority when needed.

Faith smiled a bit awkwardly at the woman. She had a lightsaber hilt on her belt, but it was longer and different-looking than any of the others she'd seen. “Thanks… Um, sorry. I don’t know what to call you, and you’re not dressed like most Jedi But you've got a lightsaber, and it's not like any I've seen yet. You're not some sort of Jedi Secret Police, are you?”

The woman chuckled lightly with wry, mirthful humor. “Nothing like that. I’m Grand Master Satele Shan. I suppose with rank comes privilege, even among the Jedi. It’s not something I think about much, but perhaps I should. As for my lightsaber, I favor the double-bladed style. You might think of it as a light-stave, with blades coming from both ends of the hilt. And you're Faith Lehane. Is that right?”

“Yes, Master," Faith said reflexively. _Way to go, Faith. Chum it up with the head of all the Jedi in the galaxy and show everyone how stupid you are._ "So, um, if you don’t mind my asking, what’s the Grand Master of the Jedi Order doing here? Shouldn’t you be directing rescue efforts or coordinating the war with the Sith or something?”

“The Force is a tool for knowledge and defense,” Master Shan said. “We don’t attack in aggression, ever. That is why I am not plotting a military campaign. As for why I am here at the Temple, it is my responsibility to ensure the safety and the education of all Jedi. But I want to talk with you about your actions today. You engaged in battle, and you took responsibility for yourself, for your charges, and even for your enemies. Those are the signs of a wise woman. A wise Jedi, I would say.”

Faith wasn't used to praise, let alone from figures of authority, but she'd try to play it cool, all the same. “Yeah, I’m all right,” Faith said with a small smirk.

Master Shan smiled. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk with you privately later this evening about today’s events in more detail. And I'd also like to talk about when you were found on Denova, if you don't mind.”

Faith nodded, feeling at ease despite the huge gap in experience, authority, and power between the two of them. Faith didn't like to admit it, but she probably couldn't take this woman in a fight. Satele radiated power, but it was still and controlled. “Yeah, sure thing.”

“Very well,” Satele Shan said. “I will see you then. Please take some time to rest. And again, thank you for what you've done today. Those three Padawans might not be alive if you hadn't helped them. You've truly done a wonderful thing.”

As the Grand Master walked away into the Temple, Faith thought on her words. Once upon a time, Faith would have just killed the Flesh Raiders to get a rise out of the experience. Slaying was what she was made for, and she did it with gusto. It used to be all about the kill, but since then, Faith had come to see the other side of things. It wasn't just about killing the bad guys, it was about saving the good guys. Sometimes it was too easy for her to forget that, and she felt grateful to the Grand Master for reminding her. The title was all kinds of pretentious, but the woman herself didn't seem to be.

And with said woman, Faith was going to talk about Denova, and that train of thought only went to one place. Faith hadn't forgotten the most important question that she absolutely needed to have answered. 

What had happened to Buffy?


	3. Buffy II - Social Contracts

Buffy strode into Overseer Dalen’s new study and let out a low whistle as she took in the change in scenery from his old haunt. It was a far larger space with a nice, big window overlooking the Valley of the Dark Lords. The desk was made of some sort of material that she couldn't recognize, but it reminded Buffy of petrified wood. It was a desk with all sorts of computer equipment built into it, but there were also carvings in it that almost looked like runes, only they weren’t in the Aurebesh language that she’d come to associate with this universe.

“Ah, come in Acolyte Summers,” Dalen said. His voice and his face both indicated a good mood. “Your little jaunt in the Tomb of Ajunta Pall has reaped many benefits.”

“Which is why you sent me there in the first place,” Buffy realized aloud. She folder her arms across her chest and smiled a wide white smile, as it to challenge the Overseer. Inwardly, she was furious at the revelation. “If I died, then I was of no use to you, but if I succeeded – which I did with flying colors, thank you very much – then you would get the credit and recognition that we all know you deserve for training me so well,” Buffy said, allowing the sarcasm to drip from her lips like venom.

“You are starting to think like a Sith,” Dalen said approvingly, his sharp blue eyes meeting her own green gaze. “This is very good. Sit down. We have much to discuss.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow as if to ask 'Really?" but she took the seat at the desk across from the Dalen all the same. “You’re being awfully familiar with me, Overseer,” Buffy noted.

Dalen showed a small smile that Buffy thought might be guarding some other thought or expression. “Well, most Sith would simply take the credit they felt they were due and leave it at that, but I owe my higher stature to your success more than anything else. As such, I feel it is necessary to reevaluate our situation.”

“Let me guess,” Buffy said with even more sarcasm, her contempt for Sith games and power plays growing ever stronger. "This is where you hammer home the point that you’re the teacher, I’m the student, and I’m not supposed to get any wild ideas about killing you and taking your place, right?”

“Correct, to a point,” Dalen said coolly. Buffy was surprised that not only had she not caught him off guard, but that he didn't seem insulted or even slightly perturbed. “Since you have already disclosed one purpose of this discussion, I shan’t bore you with needless intimidation. You make a reasonably compliant student, and you are intelligent enough to know that I am still your better in the ways of the Force. No, we must consult on where to go from here. The clearing of the Tomb of Ajunta Pall was a task that was expected to require the sacrifice of many platoons of Imperial soldiers. You’ve spared the Empire a great deal of time and resources, and have reopened to us a great source of ancient knowledge.”

“Uh, you’re welcome?” Buffy said skeptically. Really, she'd just killed a few demon-alien-things. They hadn't really been that dangerous, had they? Or was Buffy really that powerful compared to the other students here?

“Quite,” Dalen said drolly. “Whenever another Sith sends their acolytes into that Tomb, they will know that it is only by your power that they are able to do so. We have made a bold move, but that boldness has called out our strength to the entire Academy, and that strength will be seen by many as a challenge.”

Buffy couldn't help but notice that Dalen referred to moves that 'we' had made. Once upon a time, Buffy would have mouthed off at the comment, but Dalen was a potential threat to her, and she didn't want to reveal more than she had to. “A challenge as in 'I challenge you to a duel to the death?' Aren’t students kinda _not_ supposed to kill each other?” Buffy asked. “I mean, it sounds like you’re telling me to watch out, but do I really need to worry about that?”

The Overseer snorted, and his gaze was equally full of disgust. “I thought you were smarter than that, Summers. That rule is the official word of law, but as a Sith, you must learn to read between the lines. You can only be punished if you leave proof or witnesses that can reveal you as the guilty party. The true rule is that no acolyte shall kill another and be caught doing so. Really, I didn't think I'd need to spell it out for you so plainly. But since you seem to need it, I will tell you that self-defense is permissible. If you are attacked, you may kill your attacker and not lose any standing.”

Buffy narrowed her gaze and glared at Dalen, as if daring him to insult her intelligence again. "And what happens when the overseers arrive and see two bodies, one alive and one dead. How do they know which was the attacker?"

Dalen's lips curved into a thin smile. "I'm glad to see you're not entirely stupid. But to answer your question, in such a case, the inquisitors examine the circumstances and all parties involved. For your sake, Summers, I would advise against crossing paths with the inquisitors unnecessarily."

Buffy noted the genuine warning for what it was, but she had no time to ponder much else before Dalen moved on. “Your mastery of the war-blade is, in a word, spectacular, particularly given your limited time with it. It is merely a stepping stone, however, to the true weapon of a Sith: the lightsaber. It is typical for the most promising apprentices to retrieve rare and ancient weapons from the Tombs, or else from rival acolytes. For you, however, I have something else in mind. A Sith’s weapon is not merely a tool. In combat, a lightsaber becomes an extension of the self. You must be as intimately familiar with it as you are with your own body. For that reason, you will construct your own lightsaber, and I will present it to you upon the completion of your trials on Korriban.”

Buffy felt her eyes widen involuntarily. Overseer Dalen was a man who chose his words carefully. Buffy knew that she was a good fighter, but to hear that she was 'spectacular' put things in perspective. On Korriban, she was a step above the rest, and that would put a target on her back. More than that, however, was the promise of her own special Sith weapon. Alas, putting things together had never been her strong suit. Buffy was far better at taking things apart, usually with reckless abandon and no intent as a byproduct of fighting some demon or another. "So, you want me to build my own laser-sword?" she said carefully. "I don't know what kind of education good Imperial kids have when it comes to education, but I'm not so good with building things. Or even fixing things. I'm much better with the breaking-things way of things."

Dalen waved away her concerns with a brush of his hand. "I can arrange for the more complex components to be assembled beforehand. However, there are certain things that you must do if you want the weapon to be truly yours. A lightsaber is not just a 'laser-sword.' It has its own presence in the Force, and if it is out of sync with your own, then you will never be able to master the blade as it should be mastered. I can guide you, but only so far. Do you understand, Summers?"

The strange part wasBuffy strode into Overseer Dalen’s new study and let out a low whistle as she took in the change in scenery from his old haunt. It was a far larger space with a nice, big window overlooking the Valley of the Dark Lords. The desk was made of some sort of material that she couldn't recognize, but it reminded Buffy of petrified wood. It was a desk with all sorts of computer equipment built into it, but there were also carvings in it that almost looked like runes, only they weren’t in the Aurebesh language that she’d come to associate with this universe.

“Ah, come in Acolyte Summers,” Dalen said. His voice and his face both indicated a good mood. “Your little jaunt in the Tomb of Ajunta Pall has reaped many benefits.”

“Which is why you sent me there in the first place,” Buffy realized aloud. She folder her arms across her chest and smiled a wide white smile, as it to challenge the Overseer. Inwardly, she was furious at the revelation. “If I died, then I was of no use to you, but if I succeeded – which I did with flying colors, thank you very much – then you would get the credit and recognition that we all know you deserve for training me so well,” Buffy said, allowing the sarcasm to drip from her lips like venom.

“You are starting to think like a Sith,” Dalen said approvingly, his sharp blue eyes meeting her own green gaze. “This is very good. Sit down. We have much to discuss.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow as if to ask 'Really?" but she took the seat at the desk across from the Dalen all the same. “You’re being awfully familiar with me, Overseer,” Buffy noted.

Dalen showed a small smile that Buffy thought might be guarding some other thought or expression. “Well, most Sith would simply take the credit they felt they were due and leave it at that, but I owe my higher stature to your success more than anything else. As such, I feel it is necessary to reevaluate our situation.”

“Let me guess,” Buffy said with even more sarcasm, her contempt for Sith games and power plays growing ever stronger. "This is where you hammer home the point that you’re the teacher, I’m the student, and I’m not supposed to get any wild ideas about killing you and taking your place, right?”

“Only to a point,” Dalen said coolly. Buffy was surprised that not only had she not caught him off guard, but that he didn't seem insulted or even slightly perturbed. “Since you have already disclosed one purpose of this discussion, I shan’t bore you with needless intimidation. You make a reasonably compliant student, and you are intelligent enough to know that I am still your better in the ways of the Force. No, we must consult on where to go from here. The clearing of the Tomb of Ajunta Pall was a task that was expected to require the sacrifice of many platoons of Imperial soldiers. You’ve spared the Empire a great deal of time and resources, and have reopened to us a great source of ancient knowledge.”

“Uh, you’re welcome?” Buffy said skeptically. Really, she'd just killed a few demon-alien-things. They hadn't really been that dangerous, had they? Or was Buffy really that powerful compared to the other students here?

“Quite,” Dalen said drolly. “Whenever another Sith sends their acolytes into that Tomb, they will know that it is only by your power that they are able to do so. We have made a bold move, but that boldness has called out our strength to the entire Academy, and that strength will be seen by many as a challenge.”

Buffy couldn't help but notice that Dalen referred to moves that 'we' had made. Once upon a time, Buffy would have mouthed off at the comment, but Dalen was a potential threat to her, and she didn't want to reveal more than she had to. “A challenge as in 'I challenge you to a duel to the death?' Aren’t students kinda _not_ supposed to kill each other?” Buffy asked. “I mean, it sounds like you’re telling me to watch out, but do I really need to worry about that?”

The Overseer snorted, and his gaze was equally full of disgust. “I thought you were smarter than that, Summers. That rule is the official word of law, but as a Sith, you must learn to read between the lines. You can only be punished if you leave proof or witnesses that can reveal you as the guilty party. The true rule is that no acolyte shall kill another and be caught doing so. Really, I didn't think I'd need to spell it out for you so plainly. But since you seem to need it, I will tell you that self-defense is permissible. If you are attacked, you may kill your attacker and not lose any standing.”

Buffy narrowed her gaze and glared at Dalen, as if daring him to insult her intelligence again. "And what happens when the overseers arrive and see two bodies, one alive and one dead. How do they know which was the attacker?"

Dalen's lips curved into a thin smile. "I'm glad to see you're not entirely stupid. But to answer your question, in such a case, the inquisitors examine the circumstances and all parties involved. For your sake, Summers, I would advise against crossing paths with the inquisitors unnecessarily."

Buffy noted the genuine warning for what it was, but she had no time to ponder much else before Dalen moved on. “Your mastery of the war-blade is, in a word, spectacular, particularly given your limited time with it. It is merely a stepping stone, however, to the true weapon of a Sith: the lightsaber. It is typical for the most promising apprentices to retrieve rare and ancient weapons from the Tombs, or else from rival acolytes. For you, however, I have something else in mind. A Sith’s weapon is not merely a tool. In combat, a lightsaber becomes an extension of the self. You must be as intimately familiar with it as you are with your own body. For that reason, you will construct your own lightsaber, and I will present it to you upon the completion of your trials on Korriban.”

Buffy felt her eyes widen involuntarily. Overseer Dalen was a man who chose his words carefully. Buffy knew that she was a good fighter, but to hear that she was 'spectacular' put things in perspective. On Korriban, she was a step above the rest, and that would put a target on her back. More than that, however, was the promise of her own special Sith weapon. Alas, putting things together had never been her strong suit. Buffy was far better at taking things apart, usually with reckless abandon and no intent as a byproduct of fighting some demon or another. "So, you want me to build my own laser-sword?" she said carefully. "I don't know what kind of education good Imperial kids have when it comes to education, but I'm not so good with building things. Or even fixing things. I'm much better with the breaking-things way of things."

Dalen waved away her concerns with a brush of his hand. "I can arrange for the more complex components to be assembled beforehand. However, there are certain things that you must do if you want the weapon to be truly yours. A lightsaber is not just a 'laser-sword.' It has its own presence in the Force, and if it is out of sync with your own, then you will never be able to master the blade as it should be mastered. I can guide you, but only so far. Do you understand, Summers?"

The strange part was that Buffy did understand what he was saying. The Slayer Scythe spoke to Buffy on a level that she couldn't explain, and while the situation wasn't unique to her alone, every Slayer knew what it was like to have a special sort of bond with a weapon once they'd laid hands on that specific blade. What was far stranger than that notion was how Dalen was addressing her. He was acting strangely patient and respectful. Was he afraid of her now that he'd seen what she could do with a sword? Was he trying to get her on his good side? The Overseer was a puzzle that Buffy was struggling to figure out.

"One other thing, Summers," Dalen said, looking her in the eyes. "I would like you teach me your language. Your spoken language is close enough to Basic that it translates almost the same, if with a crude Corellian accent. The lettering, however, is what I am interested in."

Buffy couldn’t help but laugh. Of all the things for a Sith Overseer to take an interest in... “You want me to teach you the alphabet? Like you said, we already understand each other, and if anything shouldn't you be teaching your language?"

“We do understand each other, but I'm uncertain if we are in fact speaking the same language. This could be a manifestation of the Force that is enabling us in some subtle way so that we can understand each other. But getting back to your letters, the time may come when we will need to encode our work, and if we can use characters that no others are familiar with, then we will gain an advantage.”

Buffy folded her arms and arched an eyebrow as her mind raced at the implications of what Dalen was asking of her. "You really do want to work together, don't you? Nobody else would be able to understand such writing, but I would. What game are we playing here?"

Dalen sighed, but his lips were twitching upward. "It's good that we are in private, or else I would have to discipline you for such coarse manners. The game, Summers, is survival. Like it or not, our fates are joined to each other so long as we remain teacher and student. Many Sith have come and gone before this great Empire, but the most effective, if not the most renowned, have come from pairings. A single master and a single apprentice. One teacher and one student, each working with the other, learning from another, gathering power together, each keeping the other wary and on their guard in case of betrayal. Those who found a certain equilibrium accomplished deeds that remain known to this day, even if the names themselves are lost to history. I see a lot of potential in you, Summers, and while more traditional Sith would see you discarded, I see an opportunity for both of us to break our chains and rise out of this forge stronger than we were before. To do that, however, we need to survive. And to survive, we need to work together. It is the burden of all Sith to fear betrayal. Stay ever vigilant. And with that said, I believe you have work to do out in the Valley of the Dark Lords."

Buffy did not understand the Sith mentality. Never trusting a soul around her was not the kind of life that she wanted to live. Buffy had always anchored herself in reality, and her anchors had been her friends and family. Such bonds were built on trust that was forged in the fires of battle that Dalen seemed to be wanting her to persevere against, only to learn the opposite lessons.

"So, when you say that Sith should always fear betrayal, does that include the master and the apprentice doing great things together?" Buffy asked.

Dalen chuckled mirthlessly. "Summers, you fool. What is it, exactly, that you thought drove those Sith to such greatness?"

Buffy shook her head and rose from her seat, leaving Dalen behind her as she headed to resume her trials.

* * *

Buffy was looking for a brain.

It had to be a sign of some sort. Maybe it was a testament written in destiny that Buffy looking for the brain of a mutant animal was just another ordinary day on Koriban. Quite frankly, Buffy agreed with Lord Renning's apprentice, Malora, that her master was insane, and that his experiments were sadistic and stupid. But now, here she was. Buffy was skulking through the Tomb of Marka Ragnos to retrieve the brain of a creature called a tuk'ata that Lord Renning had experimented on, only for his prized specimen to escape. Buffy felt sorry for the tuk'ata, as she was reminded of the horrific experiments that the Initiative had done back in Sunnydale. Still, Buffy had witnessed Sith Lords exerting their power, either in shows of dominance or else in disciplining students. Buffy was convinced that Sith Lords earned their titles, as the powers they showed off were definitely not something that Buffy wanted to mess with. So here she was, battling through a tomb full of monstrous, dog-like beasts with large horns in the hopes of finding the one amogn them that showed signs of mutation, and then to kill it without damaging its brain.

Just as Buffy was about to descend a flight of stone stairs, she picked up on something ahead of her. Whether it was her Slayer senses or the Force, she couldn't say.

“-insane, I tell you! I thought the k’lor slugs were all gone from the tombs!” a young woman shouted in exasperation.

“They’re all over Korriban, Malra. Get used to it. Just because Ajunta Pall’s tomb got cleared out doesn't mean the whole planet's rid of them. And unless Ajunta Pall's spirit decides to do something about it, there'll probably be a new brood in a few months for some other new blood who doesn’t know her own reach to exterminate.” This voice belonged to a young man.

“Oh, come on! Do you really think one person could do that, Telran? Well, a Lord would have no trouble, but a single _acolyte?_ We barely survived _three_ k’lor slugs. What if there are more? Do you think we'll survive another encounter like that?”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it? Either we retrieve that tablet, or Loslar has the twins kill us when we come back empty-handed. Either way, let’s just get it over with.”

“This is stupid, Telran. We should just go to the Overseer? Y’know, tell him that Loslar has us doing his dirty work for him, right?”

“You know that wouldn’t work, Malra. They’d just say that it was… Oh, no. More slugs!”

Once lives were on the line, Buffy stopped eavesdropping and rushed down the stairs to join the fight. These kids didn’t sound like they were cut out for this line of work, and had anyone else at the academy come across them, they probably would have left Telran and Malra to die. Luckily for them, Buffy wasn't anyone else..

Using the Force to propel herself over the two acolytes and landing between them and the monsters, Buffy drew her war-blade and and started to hack away at the k’lor slugs. There was a bit of dim illumination from a number of crystal lanterns, but Buffy had no trouble fighting in the darkness. She'd done so for somewhere between a third and a half of her life. She had the senses of a Vampire Slayer as well as the Force at her command. It was strange. The Force had seemed like an alien concept not too long ago, but now it felt as natural to Buffy as breathing. Even her Slayer-enhanced senses and physicality were the result of magic. The Force was something more.

After a minute or so of fighting, a pack of four k'lor slugs - not fully mature by the looks of them - lay in pieces at Buffy's feet. She turned around to face the two acolyte's she had just saved. “You guys all right?”

Malra and Telran both retreated a few steps back and drew their own training blades. “Back off!” Malra warned.

Buffy stowed her war-blade in its holster on her back and held up her hands in a placating gesture as she studied the two of them. Malra was a young human woman, maybe in her early twenties, with dark hair and skin, but not quite as dark as Kendra's had been. Telran had the red skin and facial markings that were the hallmark of pure-blooded Sith, which was a species that had founded the Empire some millenia ago, if the history lessons were to be believed. “Whoa, chill out!" Buffy said carefully. "I just saved your lives, in case you didn’t notice. I get that this is the Sith Academy, but even so! When did people stop saying ‘thank you’ for stuff like that?”

Telran and Malra looked at each other, probably communicating with their eyes like Buffy was able to do with those she was closest with. “What do you want?” Telran half-asked, half-demanded

“Me?” Buffy replied. "That depends. If I could have anything I wanted, I would be back home, never having ever heard of Korriban, living my life like I knew it. As for what I want realistically, in this moment here and now, I want to find a mutant tuk’ata so I can take its brain back to Lord Renning. Well, that's not so much a want as it is a way to avoid getting what I don't want, which is killed or tortured. I’m not here to kill you, or to hurt you, or to maim you, etcetera, etcetera, and so forth. So, truce. Okay?”

Malra gestured wildly at Buffy with the hand not holding her training sword. “That’s her! She’s the one who cleared out Ajunta Pall’s tomb!”

Telran's eyes flicked briefly over to his companion before affixing their gaze on Buffy once again. He kept his blade raised in both hands, holding himself and his weapon steady. “Is that true?” he asked, the challenge in his tone offset by the trembling of his voice.

Buffy decided to stick it to the Sith by being honest with these two. “It’s true,” she said. “And if you don’t try to kill me, I won’t try to kill you. And while we’re on the subject of people killing each other, I overheard you talking about some problems with a guy called Loslar. Anything I can do to help with that?”

Telran spit on the ground. “He comes from a noble family. Supposedly, they can trace their lineage all the way back to the Great Hyperspace War, so he gets preferential treatment. He has other acolytes - two twin brothers - do his dirty work while he takes all the credit. He’s a coward and a disgrace to all Sith!”

“Keep your voice down!” Buffy hissed. She opened her ears for any sounds that might be coming from a distance. “Your shouting earlier was what drew the slugs, so let’s keep it quiet.”

“Right. Sorry," Telran said, his voice and his stance relaxing a bit. "He’s not the most powerful acolyte, but he’s got a few cronies who are hoping to benefit from family connections once he becomes a Lord. Together, they can back up their threats.”

“Huh.” Buffy felt a tug at the back of her mind, and she knew that the mutant tuk’ata was not far away. “I’ll tell you what. You help me with this tuk’ata, and I’ll help you with Loslar.”

“Why are you even offering to help?” Malra asked softly, her voice a mixture of both caution and hope. “You’re powerful, far more than we are. And it’s no good denying it, Telran. What do you gain from helping us?”

“What could I possibly gain from letting you die?” Buffy countered. Buffy didn't like it, but If these two were going to think like Sith, then Buffy would have to relate to them. “Look, if you’re dead, then you’re of no use to me. Alive, you can be my eyes and ears in places where I can’t go. I can protect you if you work with me. Understand now?”

Before either of the other acolytes could answer, the roar of a tuk’ata sounded from not far away, and Buffy felt it in the Force, but slightly off. This was the mutant she was seeking.

“All right. I’ll draw it’s attention and keep it off of you. While I make it mad, you take off its legs and stab it in the spine if you can, okay?”

It was less a suggestion and more a command, like she was back in Sunnydale ordering about the Potentials in the early battles against the First Evil. She couldn't wait to see if the other two would aid her. The opportunity was here and now, so Buffy drew her blade and turned to face the monster. It was rushing towards them, having smelled fresh meat.

Just as the mutant tuk'ata leaped into the air, lunging for Buffy, the Slayer dodged out of the way and delivered a kick into the beast's stomach, knocking it into the wall of the tomb It roared and came at her again, but Buffy stood her ground, her blade deftly deflecting its claws and fangs Each parry brought the blade into contact with the beast. If she couldn't deliver a killing blow, then Buffy would have to settle for death by a thousand cuts.

And then the creature whimpered in pain before falling limp to the ground. Telran and Malra stood above the creature, their blades buried in its back. Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. She probably could have taken the beast on her own, but help was not something to pass up. "Thanks," she said to the others with genuine gratitude. "That could've been a lot messier without your help. You both okay?" 

“Yeah. We’re fine,” Malra said. “You fought that thing head-on! You were moving so quickly... How did you do that?”

“She’s more powerful than we realized,” Telran said, and before Buffy even realized what was happening, he bent to one knee and bowed his head.

No, no this was not what Buffy wanted at all. She didn't want to play the Sith's game, either as an apprentice or a master. And yet, Malra was already following her companion in submission. "What is this?" Buffy asked tentatively, unable to keep a slight tremble out of her voice. "What are you doing?" 

“We pledge our lives to you and your glory, my Lord,” Telran said. “We offer ourselves as your apprentices, to be extensions of your will.”

“Whoa, hold on!” Buffy said. She thought about what to say to dissuade them, but anything resembling moral decency wouldn't fit into the Sith mindset, so she decided to go with a different sort of truth. “I’m just an acolyte here, myself. A-and I’m not even from around here! The world they found me on, Denova… It was just recently discovered. I’m flying blind once I get out of here.”

“We’ll teach you all that you need to know,” Malra said, a bit too quickly. “We will help you understand the things you don't know, my Lord. Will you help us to understand true power?”

Buffy wanted to protest, but she could do nothing to change their attitudes. Theirs was a culture of dominance and submission, and not the fun kind, either. This would not end well, but maybe it could work for a while. These two might never trust her, but they did fear her, or at the very least they respected her power. And Buffy did need to learn about this strange galaxy she found herself in. This might not end well, but it might work for a while, at least to a degree, if she played her cards right.

“All right," Buffy said a bit more flippantly than the situation called for. "I, uh, accept you as my apprentices. So, first things first: no one outside this room ever knows of this arrangement. Understand? You tell nobody, you act as if nothing strange happened here. Got it?”

“Yes, Master,” the two acolytes said as one.

Buffy recoiled a bit at being addressed in such a way. This was far more serious than she realized. “Wow. Uh, you may rise?”

With permission granted, Malra and Telran stood up and held themselves high. “What would you have us do, Master?” Malra asked.

“Firstly, help me cut this things' head open. I have a container to store the brain in. After that, we look for your tablet and then work out a way to deal with Loslar. Sound good to you?”

“My Lord,” Telran said, “it would be my genuine pleasure.”

* * *

Buffy stood alone in the dark of an underground corridor of the Sith Academy, waiting for Loslar to show. The tuk'ata brain had been delivered and Lord Renning had been ecstatic. His poor apprentice cursed Buffy for saddling her with more pointless work, but Buffy was just grateful to be alive and to not have the attention of an insane Sith Lord. For now, Buffy had to wait for Loslar and, presumably, his lackeys. He had arranged a rendezvous for Telran and Malra to hand over the tablet, which Buffy and the duo had found in a chamber in Marka Ragnos's tomb not far from where they’d slain the mutant tuk’ata.

Buffy thought she had a good read on the situation, and if she was lucky, then this would all work out swimmingly. She checked her chrono to confirm the time, and quite punctually, she simultaneously heard and felt footsteps approaching. Two sets of heavy feet, one light. Buffy turned to face them, hands clasped behind her back, feet apart at what Riley would have called 'at ease.' Getting a good look at them, Buffy found herself confronting a very scrawny red-skinned Sith Pureblood with prominent cheek tendrils. He was flanked by two other identical pure-blooded Sith young men. The twins both had very prominent eyebrow ridge, and they even dressed alike.

“Who are you?” the scrawny one demanded.

“You Loslar?”

“I am,” he replied imperiously. “Where are Malra and Telran?”

“They're dead,” Buffy said nonchalantly. “They had this really cool-looking tablet-thingy that they told me you wanted so badly that you’d kill for it. I figured that I’d save you the trouble of taking on two-on-one odds and take the tablet for myself. You're welcome, by the way.”

Loslar smirked. “And you wanted to offer it to me in the hopes of gaining an alliance, is that it?”

Buffy tried to fight the bile rising in her throat, but she couldn't help but be disgusted by this bully. Even at her worst, Cordelia Chase never outsourced her cruel remarks to her 'friends.' She would tell you exactly what she thought of you, and even vampires and demons were not immune from her scathing tongue. Even if her parents hadn't needed to flee the country for tax evasion, Cordelia could honestly say that she'd earned everything she got. This puny thug, Loslar, was just an insult to Buffy, to her friends, to Malra and Telran. Hell, he was an insult to the Sith! Even Buffy knew that real Sith didn't outsource their dirty work, not unless they were so high up they were untouchable. "Hm. Not really," Buffy finally responded, allowing a little bit of Valley Girl to slip into her voice. “Y’know what I think? I think a true Sith would know that through strength, he gains power. I think you’re more along the lines of ‘through money, I gain prestige.’ Alas, money is not strength and prestige is not power."

Loslar’s eyes widened, as though nobody had ever dared spoken to him this way before. Nobody probably ever had. “You think to challenge me, girl?”

Buffy laughed. This scrawny little kid had the nerve to talk down to her! "I think that a real Sith would take what he wanted himself instead of sending lackeys to do his bidding. But they’re dead now, and I have the tablet. I'm guessing you wanted the tablet because your master told you to go and fetch it. Tell me: what will your master do to you when you don’t give it to him? Or her? Sith tend to use only the male pronoun, and it's honestly a bit confusing.”

Loslar bristled at what Buffy was not so much implying as saying outright about him. “Sappa, Laffa, make her talk,” he snarled.

The twin Sith advanced on Buffy, but she casually jumped over their heads - allowing the Force to guide her - and landed behind Loslar. In an instant, her war-blade was out, its serrated edge pressed against Loslar's neck. “No, I don’t think we’ll be doing that," Buffy said calmly. "Will we, Sappa? Laffa?”

“Put down your weapons!” Loslar yelled hysterically. “What do you want?”

“Who? Little old me?” Buffy asked innocently. “I just want to walk out of here alive." But that wasn't all that Buffy wanted, so she pressed her blade a bit further into his flesh. "And I want you to recognize who your betters are,” she added, her voice a low hiss now. “You’re weak, Loslar. You’re too weak to search the tombs yourself, and you’re too weak to intimidate others on your own. You have the twins here, who I’m sure absolutely revere your family's money. They probably figured that you’d coast along to Lordship on your name alone, right? Only it doesn’t work that way. Sith aren’t born; they’re made. Forged, even. You are _nothing._ Do you hear me?” Buffy yelled as she jostled him by the throat.

The twins eased off, looking on with amusement. Loslar merely whimpered.

“I asked you a question, Loslar,” Buffy growled. When he didn’t answer, she pressed her blade a bit further into his neck, drawing a single drop of blood. “What are you?”

“Nothing!” he cried out. “You’re my better! I swear it! I’ll do whatever you want!”

“All right, then," Buffy said with menacing sweetness "Here’s what you’re going to do. Nothings aren’t cut out to be Sith. You’re going to contact your very noble family and plead with them to let their beloved son come home. His instructors have him doing the most menial of tasks that are beneath a Sith of his stature, and despite all of his protests, they won’t challenge him as a Sith should be challenged. You’ll be called home to partake in whatever Sith high society is like, and you'll like it. You'll never be a Sith Lord, but you'll be alive, which is more than you deserve.”

Buffy thought about the Sith Lords she had read about. Some of the truly great ones picked a new name once they graduated to full-fledged Lordship. Buffy pondered what sort of name she could make up for Loslar, but then a light went off in her mind. Depending on how long this game lasted, what would Buffy's own name be should she survive long enough?

"And one final, small, almost insignificant little detail," Buffy said. "In the future, maybe a month, maybe a year, maybe a decade, but if you _ever_ come across a Sith Lord named Sunhome, then you will obey that Sith as if you owe them your life for now and forever. Do you understand everything I've told you?"

“Y-yes!" Loslar whimpered. "Yes, I’ll leave as soon as I can!”

“Good boy. And as for you two?" Buffy said, looking up at the twins. "How loyal are you to this bozo here?”

“He was a path to power,” one of them said. “Or so we thought. Now he is, as you said, nothing.”

“You heard the man,” Buffy said to Loslar. “Get out of here. Go on, skedaddle. Move it!”

Loslar knew what was best for him and scurried out of the dark corridor as fast as he could.

“You could lead us to more power,” the other twin pondered aloud. Buffy couldn’t keep them separate in her mind, and they became labeled in her mind as Thing One and Thing Two.

“But if we kill you now,” Thing One said, “we remove a powerful rival.”

“And there are no witnesses to implicate either of us,” Thing Two added

“We could kill you now."

“Easily.”

Buffy smirked, her confidence solidified by more than just instinct. “No, you couldn’t. If you could have killed me, you wouldn’t still be talking. I also think you still need that tablet, or else your master won’t be happy one bit. So, you can try to beat me into telling you where it is, or you can kill me and spend a long, long time looking for it.”

The twins seemed to think as one, for which Buffy was grateful. She didn’t want to kill if she could help it, but she'd still have to keep an eye on these two. Part of her looked at them and saw red-skinned demons, but another part saw them as people. If Telran was a person, then so were these twins. Buffy did not want to become a murderer.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Buffy offered, hoping that pragmatism would win out. “I lead you to the tablet, you let me walk away, and then we can go back to being rivals tomorrow. Right now, you don’t know if you can take me without losing your tablet, and I don’t know if I can take both of you without dying. Also, you don’t know where the tablet is. I sure as hell didn't bring it with me.”

The twins looked at each other, and then they both nodded. “You have a deal,” Thing One said.

“All righty, then!” Buffy said in a too-chipper voice. “Let’s all walk out of here together, and then I’ll hand it over to you.”

Buffy led the way back up to the main level of the Academy, keeping her eyes and her instincts open for any sign of betrayal or aggression. For their part, the twins obviously didn't want her pulling any mischief, as they flanked her all the way.

Once they reached the main level, safe in the company of witnesses, Buffy led Sappa and Laffa over to a shadowy corner where she dislodged a loose stone and removed the tablet from a hidden compartment. It was wrapped in a black cloth to protect it.

Thing One and Thing Two switched places, and Buffy rewrote in her mind which one was which. It was easier to tell them apart by physical orientation rather than actual identity. Thing One removed the cloth while Thing Two examined the tablet.

Seemingly satisfied, the twins both turned to Buffy, nodded silently, and then headed off.

* * *

“You wanted to see me, Overseer Dalen?” Buffy said the next day as she walked into the lavish study.

“Yes, Acolyte Summers, I did. You should be aware that I know you went into the lower levels last night, and I know that a well-connected student named Loslar came out of those passages afraid for his life. He is petitioning to leave the academy.”

Buffy shrugged, refusing to give anything away, even if Dalen already knew everything. “There’s a lot of space down there. Maybe he saw something that scared him.”

“Maybe he did,” Dalen agreed, not questioning Buffy’s statement. “I’ve also heard that two of Loslar’s lackeys, Sappa and Laffa Falos, presented a tablet to Overseer Sadin. They claimed that it was a task that had been given to them, and that they had found it in the Tomb of Marka Ragnos. Overseer Sadin was not amused by their prank, and she had the twins locked up. The tablet they presented to her was clearly marked as being from the Academy's archives.”

“Huh. So, they stole something that they hoped would pass muster and showed it off as the real thing. They probably shouldn't have tried to fool the Overseer. Sucks to be them right now, I'm guesing.”

“Yes, indeed,” Dalen said, a smile widening on his face. “I went and examined the tablet upon its return to the archives and checked it out for personal study. I could not help but notice that the etchings that denote it as part of the archives were only added very recently. Less than a day ago, I would judge. And the writings on the tablet… Well, they are most intriguing.”

Buffy shrugged. “A mystery that will likely remain unsolved for years to come.”

Dalen chuckled and openly smiled a wide, white grin. “No one will miss an archived tablet being used for background study. Again, I have you to thank for my sudden good fortune. This knowledge will most certainly be beneficial.”

“As you gain power, then so do I, Overseer,” Buffy said. If this was how the game was played, then Buffy would just have to learn to play it.

“You understand things well, Acolyte. I will call upon you later. Go and spend your allotted time in the archives, and be sure not to remove anything that ought not be removed.

“Yes, Overseer,”

Buffy said with all the formality expected of a good acolyte before leaving Dalen to his studies.

Buffy headed across a walkway on the second floor along the wall and over to a library full of archived information. Most of it was on datapads and computers, but there were also holocrons and tablets reserved for those of higher stature and students on special assignments. The space was physically smaller than the library back at Sunnydale High, but the quantity of knowledge contained within was undoubtedly far more than she would ever have time to read in her entire lifetime. Willow would have a field day.

Sitting herself down at a desk, Buffy pulled out a pad of some sort of alien paper along with a writing stylus from a drawer on her left.

A few minutes passed, and Buffy heard two chairs being pulled out and then seated in. Smiling, Buffy looked up at the ones who had joined her. “Telran, Malra. I'm so glad you could make it. Now, I believe you have some things to teach me, don’t you?”

“Yes, Master.”


	4. Faith II - Pilgrimage

“Of all the stories I expected to hear, I can’t say I anticipated a tale quite like yours,” Satele Shan said with a polite degree of surprise.

“Yeah, it's pretty weird, but it's the truth," Faith replied. She was sitting cross-legged on a simple cushion across from the Grand Master of the Jedi Order in the latter's quarters within the Jedi Temple for an evening meal. “One second, I’m sure my two feet are both firmly placed somewhere on Earth, my home planet. And can I just say how weird it is to say that I have to say 'home planet' at all? But, anyway... One moment, I'm there. The next, I’m in the middle of a war zone on a planet that everyone tells me is called Denova. It was kinda like Tython, as far as it had trees and mountains and such. But, yeah. I’m there with my… God, what do I call B? She’s like a friend and a sister and something else. I dunno how to really describe our relationship, but we were both there. With two armies in the mix fighting each other, we got separated. I saw Master Ralto coming at me with a laser sword and thought he was a demon trying to kill me.”

“I see," Satele said carefully. She didn't seem doubtful of Faith's claims, and she was thankfully not jumping to any sort of conclusion one way or the other. "And you mistook Master Ralto for a demon, you say, because your world has never met life from another planet?” Satele added. It was only half a question.

Faith nodded. “Right. We didn't have aliens, but we did have demons. And I'm not talking superstitious stuff to explain stuff we don't understand. We had books going back a long ways telling us what these nasty things do to people and how to kill them. A few of them were okay, but most of them were the kind that killed people. So when I see this not-human coming at me with a laser sword, I guess I freaked out a bit, only it felt normal to me at the time. So yeah. I tried to attack him with a shovel that had been lying on the ground somewhere. Keyword is 'tried.' I move in for the kill, dodging all the laser fire and his laser sword, and he just shoves me to the ground without even touching me. I guess he used the Force or something? Your boys in white armor put me in some sort of weird handcuffs I've never seen, and I'm fighting back like all hell, and then I passed out. When I came to, I realize that you drugged me to keep me from hurting anyone, and Ralto actually comes looking to see me. He talked to me a bit, calmed me down, gave me a chance to see him as a person and not a monster. And then he decided to take me back here and treat me like any other student, even after I tried to kill him. He’s... He's a really a good guy.”

“Yes, he is,” Satele agreed, and her words held no trace of a reprimand. “I'm sorry to hear that your first encounter with the Jedi and the Republic was such a violent one, and I can imagine that being swept away from your home, you'd very much like to return. Perhaps I can help you, Faith. What can you tell me about your home world? If there are any records of anything like it in our archives, then maybe we can help you to return.”

Faith felt herself squirm inside. “I, uh, I’m not gonna be much help. I wasn’t ever really the school type. I can tell you that it’s mostly water, it’s the third rock from the sun, it has a moon… That’s about it, really.”

“I see," Satele said calmly. "When you say 'mostly water,' are you talking about an ocean world, or a garden world with enough water to support life?"

Faith was most definitely not a science geek, and while she normally didn't care about her lack of education, she hated that she needed it right now. "I want to say the second one. What's a 'garden world?'"

Thankfully, Satele didn't seem the least bit bothered by Faith's ignorance, and she didn't make any fuss about it either. "A garden world is a world that supports life, specifically the kind that needs water to survive, as well as a certain kind of atmosphere. I'm guessing your planet's atmosphere is similar, if not identical, to Tython's?"

Faith shrugged. "I guess? I mean, I can breathe just fine here. The air doesn't smell any different. I don't feel like I'm being drugged or anything. The only thing that feels different is that the air is cleaner, I guess? But I think that's because we're out in the country and not in the middle of a city."

Thank you, Faith. Only a few more questions, I promise. First, you mentioned a moon. I'm guessing you mean you only have one moon, but I want to be sure. Next, do your world's landmasses have a dominant biome? That is to say, is your world mostly desert, forest, mountain, snow, etcetera. Lastly, you said your planet was the third one from the sun. How many other planets besides those three are there in your solar system?" Satele asked.

Faith couldn't help but smile at the questions that she could actually answer. "Just the one moon, right. Earth isn't mostly anything. We've got plains, islands, swamps, mountains, forests, the works," she said, naming off the basic land types from Magic the Gathering. It might not exactly be textbook material, but it was something. "As for how many planets, when I was growing up, there were nine total, but some scientists decided to say later on that the last one out was too small to count as one. Oh, right! The ninth planet’s orbit overlaps with the eighth one's! Thank you, plastic childhood teaching placemat!”

Satele arched an eyebrow at the last exclamation, but said nothing about it. “Is there anything else you can think of, Faith? I'll be perfectly honest with you. This is just the bare minimum information that I'm gathering. It probably won't be enough to find your home, but I'll do what I can, all the same. I just want you to understand that I can’t promise much, and I don't want you to get your hopes up. I’m sorry if you feel misled, Faith.”

Faith was still surprised that anyone here was showing her such consideration at all. “Don’t sweat it, Sa… Grand Master,” Faith said hastily. She wasn't used to correcting herself to use anyone's proper title, but once in a long while, someone came along who actually gave a damn, and Faith tried to respect them. Granted, Buffy and Angel didn't have any fancy titles, and Mayor Wilkins was fine with her just calling him 'boss.' And then there was the whole 'in charge of thousands or maybe millions of people across an entire galaxy' part of things.

For her part, Master Shan didn’t seem to take it the wrong way. “Thank you for your understanding, Faith. And on that note, I believe that Master Ralto wanted to speak with you once we were done here. He should be in his meditation chamber right now.”

“Thanks, Sa- Um... Thanks, Master. May the Force be with you, I guess?" Faith felt strange saying it, but it seemed to be the proper way to say goodbye to a Jedi.

Satele smiled warmly, seeming to take it in the spirit offered, and bowed her head. “May the Force be with you as well.”

Faith bowed her head in return and left the small room on the ground floor to look off for Master Ralto. Only as she was leaving the Grand Master's quarters did she realize how small they were compared to what Faith had expected for someone of such a high status. It was a warm-feeling room, but there wasn't a ton of decoration. "Spartan," Faith realized, remembering one of the few actual things worth recalling from the bitchy fake Watcher, Gwendolyn Post.

Walking up a semi-circular ramp to the second floor of the temple, Faith made her way to Ralto's meditation chamber. She wasn't sure if it was entirely 'his' or if he just borrowed it from time to time. Jedi seemed all about the community and very much with the not owning anything, but maybe Satele had phrased it that way for Faith's benefit. She knocked gently on the simple wooden door, despite that it was ajar. The Nautolan was hovering in the air with his eyes closed and his legs crossed, but they quickly unfolded to stand on the floor as he turned and opened his eyes to face Faith. “Ah, thank you for coming, Faith. This is urgent, so we should speak quickly.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Faith said, forgetting the Jedi Master’s title for a moment. She suppressed the urge to wince when she remembered a second later.

For his part, Ralto let it slide. “First of all, I wanted to thank you for helping the Padawans in the Gnarls, and to congratulate you on your prowess. What you did required no small amount of both skill and fortitude.”

Faith nodded. “Yeah, it felt good to help 'em out. It also gave me a better idea about that Code you were trying to teach me. Or at least, I think it did? I don't really know, but I'm just glad that I was able to help 'em.”

“And I am glad of that," Ralto said with a touch of pride in his voice, "but now your talents are needed elsewhere.”

“My talents?” Faith didn't like the sound of that. Her 'talents' were mostly extreme violence, even if she didn't think that was what Ralto meant. She hoped he didn't mean that, at least, so she'd play along for now. “I’m no Master. I’m still just a potty-one, whatever that is, and not by choice, may I remind you.” Being taken to Tython to train as a Jedi had been the only option open to Faith at the time, besides fighting and dying. Not that it sucked, but she'd much rather be out looking for Buffy.

Ralto closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Your strength in the Force is too great to allow to remain untamed. You could be a remarkably dangerous enemy, Faith.”

Faith laughed at that. So she was stuck here because they wanted to make sure she used her powers for good and not evil, was that it? “Oh, that's rich. Master Ralto, I _am_ a dangerous enemy. I'm just not _your_ enemy. From what you've been teaching me, I suspect that you'll be pointing me at the Sith so that they'll be my enemies. But I get it. You want to make sure I don't hurt you or your guys. Makes perfect sense.”

“Faith... No. I refuse to be baited into an argument about Jedi morality, but you must understand that the Force is powerful and needs to be wielded with care. The Force is more than just a tool or a weapon, Faith, and how you feel when you draw upon it is absolutely crucial. Calling upon the Force for acts of aggression and hate will tarnish your spirit and end up hurting everyone around you before you are consumed by darkness. Your intentions matter far more than you know, Faith, as do your feelings and your instincts."

And there it was. A speech about right and wrong that made entirely too much sense because Faith had already been down that terrible road and crashed at the end, only to crawl her way back to the other side. She was still crawling to this day, and she figured that she always would be. But if Ralto absolutely had to insist on treating her like an ignorant child, then she'd let him have this victory for the time being. "All right, I get it. Look, just because I'm not exactly Miss Prim and Proper doesn't mean I can't tell right from wrong, okay? Give me a bit more credit than that."

Ralto took another deep breath, and this time, Faith realized that he was trying to calm himself down. "You're right, Faith. I'm sorry. And I do recognize that you are a remarkably capable warrior, and I also believe that your lack of preconceptions about our galaxy will give you insight where the rest of us see no solutions. You remark about being pointed at the Sith like a weapon shows that lack of preconceptions clearly enough. And for the record, I am not saying that you are entirely wrong. But for the here and now, your insights are needed closer to home. There is a settlement nearby, you see, not a few kilometers away from the Jedi Temple. A group of Twi’lek pilgrims has put down roots and made a settlement, Kalikori Village. Alas, the settlement was not sanctioned by the Republic, and the Senata have asked us not to involve ourselves in the Twi’leks' affairs so that we do not validate their settlement.”

Faith shook her head. This sounded like legal jargon, and it went entirely over her heard. “You lost me. What’s the point you're trying to get at?”

“The point, Padawan Lehane," Ralto said through tightening breath, "is that these illegal settlers are being attacked by Flesh Raiders, and the Jedi have been obligated to ignore the problem. Recently, however, it was brought to my attention that one of the pilgrims may have unearthed a dangerous relic - a tool of the Dark Side - and now we must mend ties in order to gain the pilgrims' cooperation.”

Faith let out a disgusted grunt as she processed the picture forming in her mind. "Let me get this straight,” she said, audibly aggravated. “These guys came here peacefully, right? They just wanted a place to settle down. They needed protection, and you didn’t give it to them. Only now they have something you want, so you want me to go and make nice to help you get it. That about right?”

“I did not say that it was an ideal situation," Ralto said, "nor did I say we made the right decisions. Regardless, the sitaution is what it is, and now we have to deal with it.”

Faith sighed for deliberate dramatic effect more than anything else, hoping to get her frustration across before resigning herself to at least trying to help out. “What do you need me to do?”

“You will need to ingratiate yourself to the villagers. Gain their respect and, hopefully, their trust. Try to extricate the artifact without provoking any tensions, if you can. Once you have done so, experts here at the temple will examine it. I recommend that you undergo a local ritual to prove yourself to the settlers’ matriarch before you do anything else. It should earn you at least some level of respect, as it is considered a rite of passage for the tribe.”

Faith nodded, despite not liking the sound of this mission. “Anything else?”

“Trust your instincts and your feelings, Faith. I know that you are a woman of deep passions, regardless of how the Jedi Order would have you think and act. You must sort out in your own mind which of those feelings are truest so that you may act upon them accordingly. Your eyes and ears can deceive you, so I ask that you reach out with the Force to discern the truth.”

“Yeah, sure. If you say so, Ralto." Faith made a point to not use his title. "So, why don't you just give me a map, and I’ll get out of your way and into theirs."”

* * *

“Just a simple, small village ritual. Nothing too big, right?”

Faith was talking to distract herself as she carried a flaming brand up a mountain path leading out of Kalikori village. The locals hadn't bothered to hide their disdain for her, but Faith had tried to endure their insults as they directed her to a more helpful Twi’lek male who had explained the ritual to her. She had to carry the brand up the to the top of the mountain, light the beacons along the way, and survive whatever nasty predators or Flesh Raiders that she ran into on her journey. So far, Faith had had to deal with at least six small bands of Flesh Raiders and even more packs of awful creatures that Faith didn't recognize. Sometimes they were the Flesh Raiders' pets, and sometimes they were wild and feral.

Faith had been walking for almost five hours, and she had lit three of the beacons so far. When the fourth and final beacon finally came into sight, Faith breathed a sigh of relief and silently congratulated herself. This high up the mountain, past most of the Flesh Raiders and their attack dogs, the only wildlife that Faith saw was the occasional uxibeast, which thankfully were harmless grazers. Not sensing any sort of attack or other hostile intent nearby, Faith lit the last beacon and continued even further up the path. Just as she turned a corner, Faith saw a small stone next to an overlook at what had to be the top of the mountain.

Before she could even knock on the door, however, Faith caught eye of a single Flesh Raider prowling outside of the house. Maybe it was a chieftain, or maybe it was an exile, or maybe any number of other things. At this point, Faith was tired and this thing was in her way. She stepped softly towards it, drawing her training blade. "You got one chance," she said. "Go and get out of here, leave us be, you get to live. Capiche?"

The Flesh Raider roared in reply and charged at Faith with its own enormous sword drawn. Faith was tired from the hike, and her opponent was charging at her without much forethought or technique. Despite her not-quite-exhaustion, Faith was able to easily sidestep the monstrous being and end its life with one simple slash. Faith did not like that she had to kill these people - and the Flesh Raiders did strike her as people, if more of the caveman sort than the civilized kind - but she wasn't about to beat herself up about self-defense, either. It had taken a while for her to come to terms with the fact that humans could be monsters and that demons could be people. Biology didn't matter nearly so much as actions and intentions did.

With no other threats that Faith could see, hear, or sense, she decided to take a moment to rest. Sitting down, cross-legged, on the grass, Faith looked out and down into a serene valley with Kalikori Village at its center. Faith closed her eyes and let herself take slow breaths, savoring the cool mountain air. More than that, she felt and enjoyed a sort of energy that she couldn't define. Whatever it was, it felt protective, sustaining, and simply positive in such stark clarity that she couldn't remember feeling before. Faith had learned enough about the Force to know that it was stronger in certain places than in others. Tython as a whole was one such place, and unless Faith was mistaken, the peak of this mountain seemed to be another. _Maybe that's why the Matriarch is safe, even with the path leading to her home all full of Flesh Raiders and such._

Standing back up after her rejuvenating meditation, Faith moved to the front of the house. There was no door, just an open portal, similar to the front entrance of the Jedi Temple itself. “Hello?” she called through the opening. “Is anybody home?”

“I am here, indeed, young Jedi.”

Faith looked up and saw an elderly, blue-skinned Twi’lek looking down on her with a smile from the roof of the house.

“Please, come upstairs,” the alien woman said.

Faith nodded silently and ascended the spiraling staircase inside the small and humble house. At the top, she found a nicely furnished patio of sorts on the roof. Waiting for her was the woman who had to be the Matriarch of Kalikori Village.

“Welcome, young Jedi," the old woman said kindly. "I am Kolovish, Matriarch of the Pilgrims here. I saw you light the beacons as you ascended the mountain. You do both us and yourself great credit by respecting our customs.”

Faith didn’t know what to say to that. Was this a test, or was the matriarch being genuine? Faith was not a very diplomatic person most of the time. She was a fighter, plain and simple. So, just how was she supposed to react to an old woman’s gratitude? "Look, um, Matriarch? Can I be honest with you?”

“I would appreciate that greatly," Kolovish said with a wrinkly grin. But first, might I have your name?”

“Oh! Right, sorry. I’m Faith.”

“A telling name, indeed. Now then, let us sit, and you can be honest about what is on your mind.”

Kolovish directed Faith to a small table with two simple wooden stools, where they sat down together. Faith felt incredibly out of place all the while.

“Thanks,” Faith said. “It’s just… Well, first I got a question. If you're the Matriarch, then why aren't you in the village? I mean, unless I'm confused about everything here and how your system works."

"A fair question, young Faith. And insightful, as well. I am the eldest of we who settled here and formed Kalikori Village, but I no longer see to the governance of the village itself. Kalikori Village has its own Matriarch, but the people still refer to me by that title as a gesture of respect for those who came before."

Faith nodded in understanding. "I see. And, yeah, I get the whole respect thing, or at least I think I do. Sometimes it's harder than others. As for why I'm here, doing the whole ritual to gain _your_ respect... I gotta be honest, this doesn't feel right. The Jedi are looking for some artifact or another that they think one of your people has, so they sent me to get it. And they wanted me to do this ritual as some sort of good faith exercise or something. Be respectful and do what’s expected, right? Only thing is that I’m lost and clueless, and your people have been screwed over big time by the Jedi, and here I come all pretend-y and such. I feel like such a liar coming here and doing this whole thing just to earn your trust when you've got no reason to give it.”

The Twi’lek Matriarch merely smiled kindly. “Your words do you great credit, Jedi Faith. You clearly wish to do what is right by us, and you are not so blindly devoted to the Jedi that you do not see their faults. A true Jedi does what is right even when it is not convenient, or even lawful sometimes. At least, that is what my ancestors taught me. If you are the future of the Order, then perhaps there is truth to that.”

Faith wriggled in her seat, feeling horribly awkward. “You’re being too nice to me, Matriarch," she said. "I’m just a fighter, really. I see monsters or bad guys, and I kill ‘em. I'm not exactly much of a peacekeeper or a philosopher or whatever.”

“Perhaps that is not what the galaxy needs right now,” Kolovish said, her voice holding a certain weight. “Perhaps we simply need an honest woman who will speak the truth, even when it pains her to do so. Jedi Faith, you have done more than simply honored our traditions. You have shown your worth beyond the superficial, and you have my blessing. You are welcome among our people.”

“What?! You’re serious?” Faith asked. She wasn't sure she believed what she had just heard.

“Of course, I am serious," Kolovish answered in a tone that brooked no argument. "You give yourself too little credit. I mean no humor when I ask that you have faith in yourself, young Jedi.” The Matriarch's hands went to a small, clay pendant with alien etchings and put the cord over Faith's neck. “You have earned this, young Jedi. It will show to all of Kalikori Village that you are a friend of our people, and that you are welcome among us.”

Faith found herself mute with shock, so she simply stood up and bowed her head in what she hoped was a gesture of respect. “Thank you, Matriarch. I don’t know what to say, but I’ll do my best to do right by your people.”

“I know you will, Faith. Go now, and may the Force be with you.”

* * *

The trip back down the mountain path wasn’t nearly as difficult as it had been coming up. There were no more beacons to light, and thus no need to carry a flaming brand in one hand. Faith was free to use her entire body to attack any potential enemies, but they had all been slain on her way up the mountain path. Faith could sense some the animal instincts of fear from predators at a distance who saw Faith, knowing what she had done to the bodies that littered the path she descended.

Finally, after another hour of walking, Faith arrived back in the village, where the green-skinned twi'lek man who had set her upon the path to begin with glanced her way, noticed the pendant she wore around her neck, and smiled at her silently. Faith nodded back to him before taking a look at the other side of the village, where a crowd had formed since she had left on her journey up the mountain. A blue-skinned twi'lek - a young man, by the look of him - was standing on a raised podium giving a speech.

“For too long,” he yelled at the crowd, “we’ve been nothing more than slaves and captives. Captives to the Flesh Raiders, who hold us in fear. Captives to the Republic, who tried to deny us our right to settle here. Captives to the Jedi, who have so much power that they refuse to share. But I have found power of my own, and I will use it to defend our village!”

The Twi’lek raised up both of his hands in what might have been a supplicating gesture, and his hands held a glowing green cube, etched with symbols that Faith didn’t recognize. It made a sort of sparkling sound. Faith had never heard or seen a twinkle, but she imagined that this sound was such a thing.

“This device has granted me knowledge and power beyond any that I have known before, and it can be yours as well," the young man said, "Join me, and we will take the fight to the Flesh Raiders, then to the Jedi Temple, and then to the Republic itself!”

The crowd cheered wildly, and Faith had a bad feeling about all of this. She just knew that this could all get entirely out of hand very quickly if she didn’t do something. There were no other Jedi nearby, and these villagers were caught up in a mob mentality. So Faith decided to trust her feelings and acted on instinct. “And how do you plan on doing that?” she called out.

The crowd of twi’leks parted to allow a clear line of sight between Faith and the speaker. “What do you know of this, outsider? the blue-skinned man snarled.”

Faith smirked, hoping that her confidence would throw him off-balance. “Well, I did just have a nice chat with your Matriarch. Kolovish seemed like a really nice old lady. She gave me this wonderful talisman and everything. I think that means that I have a voice here.”

“You have no place here, Jedi! Begone before we cut you down!” the speaker yelled angrily.

“I have heard from the Matriarch,” the green-skinned guide said. “She has passed the trials, and is recognized by Kolovish as a member of our tribe.”

“And as a member,” Faith said, silently wondering how the Matriarch had communicated with him so quickly, "I gotta say that your plan has some serious flaws. If you go out and attack the Flesh Raiders, you’re gonna come home to find your village ransacked and destroyed. That’s assuming you survive.

“Then there’s the Jedi,” Faith continued. “Now, I’m new to the whole Force-using stuff, but I’ve seen some Masters at work, and from what I can tell, they could probably smack you down without even trying. They haven’t, though, so don’t try to fix what's not broke, right?.

“As for the Republic… Well, all I have to ask you is how do you think you're gonna get off Tython? Where’s your ship? And what about the Empire? Are all, what, two hundred or so of you going to take on an entire galaxy?”

“You know nothing of the power I have obtained, outsider!” the speaker said, and Faith felt power in his words. “You will not poison the minds of my people. I, Gaspal, challenge you to prove your mettle against me. I will prove to everyone here that I have what it takes to conquer a Jedi.”

Faith guessed that whatever this artifact he was holding was, Gaspal was drawing both power and madness from it. Faith decided to chuckle and slide off her outer robe before stretching a bit. Some of the twi’leks gestured at her strangely, and Faith realized that they were looking at her tattoo. Jedi probably didn’t get body art, she figured.

“You sure you want to do this?” Faith asked as she sauntered up towards Gaspal.

“I am,” he said without humor as he drew his sword.

His attack was slow and clumsy. He brought his sword down in a simple, highly telegraphed overhand chop. Faith easily blocked with her own training blade and turned Gaspal's sword aside. Before she knew it, he was on her again, swinging wildly from all angles.

Faith knew herself well enough to remember what it was like to fight on pure anger and adrenaline, and this guy had all the symptoms. “You’re pretty angry, there, aren’t ya?” she said, between blows. She didn't want to taunt him, but she had to nail home some cold-hard truths before he got himself or others killed.

“The Flesh Raiders kill my people! You Jedi do nothing! What do you expect me to feel?” He lunged at her.

Faith parried the blow. “Yeah, I get that you're angry. You should be angry. But you shouldn't let that anger make you stupid.”

Faith parried another series of blows, seeing no need to strike out herself. She didn't want to hurt this poor guy. “You think you’re doing your tribe a favor by sending them out to battle? They’re not warriors. You’re gonna get ‘em killed.”

“Not with this power!” Gaspal shouted, and he lashed out with the Force. Faith felt herself fly through the air. Oddly enough, it was more relaxing than anything else, feeling the wind on her skin.

Guiding her body with the Force, Faith landed on her feet, using her spare hand to steady her landing. “Is that all the power you’ve got? Really? You’re using up an awful lot of it right now. You sure you aren’t getting tired?”

And Gaspal did look like he was wearing himself out, but he didn't seem to notice. He simply screamed and charged at Faith.

Faith took no joy in humiliating him, but maybe it would be for the best. She easily sidestepped Gaspal and slapped him on the rear with the blunt of her blade. Not hard enough to cut or bruise, but enough to knock him down flat on his belly.

A gasp went up through the crowd as Faith stalked over to Gaspal. She picked up and threw away his sword, and then she leaned down and turned him over on his back. “You lost, buddy.”

“What are you waiting for?” he spat. “Finish it.”

Faith shook her head. “No. I’m not a murderer. Get up, Gaspal.”

The twi'lek looked somewhere between appalled and awe-struck. “What?”

“I said get up!” Faith shouted.

Gaspal rushed to obey.

“All right, everyone," Faith called out as she stowed her weapon on her back. "You want to protect your village, right? I'll be honest, I was sent here to retrieve that thing," she said, pointing at the relic. "The Jedi think it's some dark side thing, and from the way you were acting Gaspal, I'm guessing they were right. Gave you delusions of grandeur. It made you angry and stupid, but it didn’t give you enough power to beat a mere apprentice from over at the Temple.

“Now, the Jedi are all big with the letter of the law, and the law says that they can't get involved in helping you out. I think that's a load of BS, so while the rest of the Jedi ignore the innocent in need, I'm gonna take some of my time to help you out. here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna go over maps. We’ll analyze the terrain around the village, set up scouting posts, stockpile weapons and ammunition, and train civilians to defend themselves if they need to. We’re not going to let the Flesh Raiders get the upper hand on you guys.

“As for the Jedi, they owe you. When I'm not here helping you out, I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure that they bend over backwards to make up for all the times they’ve let you down. And even if they don't budge, and even if they order me not to help, I’ll still be back here on my own to help you out. Any questions?”

“Why are you doing this for us?” a yellow-skinned woman shouted. “Why bother helping us?”

Faith looked the woman straight in the eye. “Because I’ve been where you are. I’ve been helpless, surrounded by enemies and all on my own. Only I wasn’t as alone as I thought I was, but I refused to see it that way. I got help, and I got better. I was able to look out for myself. And this was all before I even knew the Jedi existed. I met a lot of people who needed saving, and I helped ‘em because it had to be done.”

“And what’s to say the Jedi won’t force you to stop helping us?” the woman asked frantically. “How can we be sure you won’t abandon us?”

Faith smiled faintly at the memories that gave context to her experiences, and to what she had to say.

“Because it’s wrong.”


	5. Buffy III - Moving On Up

Buffy moved through the practice forms she that she had grown accustomed to, only now she did so with her newly-constructed lightsaber. The weapon shined a bright crimson light in place of a metal blade, and the walls of Overseer Dalen's office glowed the color of blood. The energy blade was technically without any physical weight, but it still had a presence to it that Buffy was positive was the work of the Force. The entire experience was giving her a new appreciation for the Sith.

And also, she supposed, for the Jedi.

Overseer Dalen had been very sure to drill into Buffy the Sith creed regarding the Jedi, followed quickly by why they absolutely had to be opposed and exterminated. If Buffy was honest with herself, she thought that she would have made a far better Jedi than the Sith she was trying to be. She had to keep telling herself that playing along was her ticket off this world, then back to Faith, and then back home.

There was a knock at her door, which opened immediately without Dalen's invitation. A pale young human woman with short, blonde hair walked a few feet in and bowed her head. "Apologies for the intrusion, Overseer, but my Master, Darth Arctis, wishes to see you and your apprentice at once. Please, follow me."

Buffy’s eyes widened and she immediately disengaged her lightsaber and moved to fall in behind Dalen. Anyone with a ‘Darth’ title was among the most powerful Sith in the entire Empire. One did not make it that far through weakness or stupidity. The trials here on Korriban were designed to weed out such traits in acolytes so that Sith Lords would have their pick of gifted apprentices.

For his part, Dalen rose smoothly from his chair and moved to follow the young apprentice. "We are at his service. Before we reach him, however, might I congratulate you, Lana, on finding yourself apprenticed to the Dark Councillor in charge of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge. I know how much such things appeal to you."

Buffy realized that what might sound like pleasant conversation was actually meant for her own benefit. The Dark Council was the de facto governing body of the Sith Empire, made up of the twelve most powerful and influential Sith Lords in the entire Empire, not counting the Emperor himself, about whom Buffy knew very little. Each Dark Councillor led a specific aspect of the Empire's interests, and now Buffy had some small idea of just who she was about to meet.

As Buffy followed Dalen, she noticed the young woman - Lana - smiling kindly at his words. "Thank you, Overseer Dalen. It is truly a privilege and an honor to work with such a Master. Please, follow me now."

Many Sith had quite an eerie look about them, which Dalen had explained as the Dark Side of the Force exacting a toll for the power it granted. Dalen showed no signs of such a toll. Lana, who wasn't much younger than Dalen and not much older than Buffy, had bright yellow eyes, but aside from that was the picture of health and beauty.

As Buffy followed Dalen and Lana up the stairs to the second level of the Academy, it suddenly hit Buffy just how powerful a person she was about to meet. One of twelve individuals who ruled an Empire spanning several planets across an entire galaxy. She thought of what it might be like to meet the President of the United States, and then magnified it a thousand-fold and threw in mysterious powers. "So, um..." Buffy tried not to choke on her words. "What's the right way to address a Dark Councillor? Are we supposed to bow?"

Dalen glared at Buffy, but Lana did not seem bothered. "Any Sith Lord should be addressed simply as 'my Lord' out of respect. Addressing him as 'Darth Arctis' is in itself an appropriate use of an appropriate title. Bowing from the waist is appropriate. In theory, one only bows the knee to the Emperor himself."

"In theory?" Buffy asked before she could help herself. "Sorry. I'm not from around here," she added meekly.

"I'm afraid I don't feel it's my place to advise you on such matters, acolyte," Lana said hesitantly. "However, I would advise that outside of acknowledging your summons, do not address Darth Arctis unless he addresses you. Do you think you can manage that?" she asked with what sounded like genuine sympathy.

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, I think I can do that."

"That's good," Lana said. "Because here we are." An open arch leading into a corridor of stone stood before them, and a pair of guards in red robes and face masks flanked the doorway. "And now, I have other duties to attend to. May the Force serve you well. Both of you," she said with a small smile before leaving Buffy and Dalen to their meeting.

Buffy's thoughts lingered on Lana's parting words. It almost felt like a blessing from Earth, and the familiarity was a small comfort in this literally alien world. Careful not to stare overlong at the red-robed guards, Buffy mentally reminded herself of her situation and followed Dalen inside.

Teacher and student rounded a corner into a large study, far larger and more opulent than Dalen's. Shelves full of tomes and datapads lined the walls, glowing crystals illuminated the room, and a horribly pale human man with graying hair sat facing away from his guests, reading over something on his desk.

Dalen bowed from the waist, and Buffy followed suit. Neither spoke a word.

The man who had to be Darth Arctis spent another two minutes reading whatever it was he had in his hand before rising to greet his guests. “Ah, splendid. You’re here. Please, rise.”

Buffy stood up straight a bit quicker than she probably should have, eager to get her back into its proper position. while also trying to avoid offending a guy who could probably swat her like a fly with little effort. She had seen Sith with talents different from her own, and they had been able to shoot lightning from their fingertips. The sight never failed to bring back memories of Willow’s dark phase. Having been hit with summoned lightning before, Buffy had no desire to repeat the experience. And thoughts of Willow's descent into darkness would follow her every time she looked into Darth Arctis's face. Whereas Lana had only unusual amber eyes to show her use of the Dark Side, Darth Arctis's visage was sickly and full of visible veins running through his face that were all too familiar.

Buffy risked a sideways glance at Dalen. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back and his legs apart, in what Buffy recognized as ‘at ease’ from her time with Riley. She decided to copy his movements.

“I was just reading over reports of your time here on Korriban, Overseer Dalen," Darth Arctis said, his voice pleasant on the surface. His face told a very different story. "You’ve taken some very radical views, to say the least. You’ve advocated for alien blood in the Empire, saying that all those with strength should add their strength to the Empire and to the Sith. You’ve taken many alien apprentices since you became an Overseer, and while some have gone farther than others on Korriban, not one has survived the trials.”

Dalen said nothing, and his face betrayed no emotion. Buffy kept her gaze on Arctis, but she could not read him, at least not yet. He seemed to be sizing up Dalen, trying to get a reaction out of him.

“You were given other, purer students to oversee in the past year,” Arctis continued. “One of them was a favorite of my fellow Dark Councilor, Darth Vengean. Her name was Jorya, and she came from a proud lineage of warriors. You tried to pass her off to Overseer Harkun, telling Vengean that her talents rested in mastery of the Force’s mysteries rather than physical combat. She would have fallen under my domain had you succeeded, Dalen. Is that why you recommended her to Harkun?”

“No, my Lord,” Dalen said crisply. “It was evident that her skill with a blade was sub-par at best, but her power with the Force was great. She would have made a great sorceress had she been allowed to pursue her true talents.”

“But Vengean wouldn’t allow it. She was the daughter of one of his allies, and he promised to bring her under his dominion. She died in the sands of Valley of the Dark Lords, devoured by a pack of tuk’ata. Vengean swore that you would never rise above the rank of Overseer for this slight.”

Buffy had no idea what Dalen could say to that without getting himself killed. The overseer merely inclined his head and said, “Yes, my Lord.”

“And now,” Arctis continued, moving to inspect Buffy, “you have taken on a student in some ways more radical than the aliens you advocate to teach. This acolyte comes from a world only recently discovered. She has no knowledge of our culture, our history, not even our language. You specifically requested her to be your next acolyte, given that no other Overseer saw a use for her. What is it that you see in Acolyte Summers, Dalen?”

“My Lord, Acolyte Summers is a formidable warrior who shows signs of experience in combat far greater than many full-fledged Sith Lords." The speed and vehemency of Dalen's words led Buffy to believe that this had been rehearsed several times before this meeting. "Her physical strength, stamina, reflexes, and speed are all superior to other humans, and this is before she accepted the Force into her life. That is not my opinion, but simply objective truth based on observations from other Overseers and analyses from medical and combat droids. Aside from that, she has a perspective untainted by the Republic’s lies, and I believe that without having lived her life in the Empire, she can view it objectively and change it for the better without the burden of any preconceptions.”

“Indeed,” Arctis said, the one word sounding full of skepticism and darkness. “Perhaps she would have made a better apprentice for Darth Vengean. Acolyte Summers,” he said, speaking directly to Buffy for the first time, “you were found on Denova in the middle of a battle between our forces and those of the Republic. Tell me what happened there.”

Buffy looked up and fully examined Darth Arctis for the first time. She had already noted his unnaturally pale skin. His eyes were a strange shade of orange. His hair was graying, though he wasn’t balding, and he had a strange scar on one side of his mouth that gave the eerie impression that he was smirking, even without moving a single facial muscle.

“Well, my Lord,” Buffy began, trying to remember her place, “I didn’t start on Denova. I was with my friends back home. Home would be a planet called Earth, which I couldn’t tell you where to find. We didn’t have space travel there. One moment, we’re just sitting there and enjoying ourselves. The next, my wacky cousin from England and I are smack dab in the middle of a battlefield on what everyone tells me is Denova. My cousin grabbed a shovel and started beating up some guys in white armor, and I was suddenly bobbing and weaving to avoid laser fire from a bunch of robots of some sort. I got separated from my cousin, and a Sith Lord captured me and put me in manacles. They were wearing a mask, and they didn't speak to me, so I couldn't tell you who it was. I was stuffed in a ship with four, maybe five other prisoners, and taken to Korriban. A bunch of Sith asked me questions, then put me in a cell for a while, and then Overseer Dalen came and started training me.”

“Is that so? Fascinating.” Darth Arctis seemed to be speaking to himself, so Buffy declined to add anything. “Most peculiar, and yet I sense no deception from you. It seems that I was right to summon you. Your strength and power are clear to me. You shine like a beacon in the Force, calling out to be tested and forged. And I shall give you that opportunity.

“One of my former apprentices, Darth Crush, is foolishly attempting to unseat me. He is building a power base with what he foolishly believes to be subtlety, but his ploys are obvious to all who see them. He commands an Overseer here on Korriban who is also his lover: Overseer Falrath. They are currently evaluating acolytes to determine who will become Crush’s next apprentice.

“Dalen, Summers, you will confront Crush and Falrath and execute them for their treason. You are exempt from the normal rules regarding the killing of fellow Sith within the Academy. Do this thing, and you will be rewarded.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Dalen said, bowing again from the waist.

“Thank you, my Lord,” Buffy echoed, following Dalen’s lead.

“Go now,” Arctis commanded, “and see that my will is done.”

* * *

“My study, Summers,” Dalen hissed as soon as they were out of Arctis's office. “Now.”

Buffy didn’t question the Overseer. She followed him to his study, where he closed the door and looked Buffy straight in the eye.

“You’ve been working on your lightsaber for several weeks, and you've only just begun to practice with it. I need to know if it feels right to you. And I do not mean in the traditional sense of a weapon feeling balanced or well-forged. I need to know that you are in sync with your lightsaber through the Force."

Buffy looked at Dalen closely, wondering at the concern in his voice. Dalen cut a handsome figure with his dark hair, pale eyes, and hale good looks. Buffy had never been attracted to the Overseer, but there was something appealing about his face and voice right now. It was almost as if he cared for Buff and her well-being.

Buffy didn’t linger on those thoughts, but activated her lightsaber and felt the glowing red blade in the Force, and it did resonate with her on an intangible level. It wasn’t quite like the Slayer Scythe. She didn’t feel a special ownership of this weapon, but she knew that she could do whatever she needed to with it. It was the right tool for the right job.

Only in this case, the right job was murder, and Buffy didn’t know if she could take another life.

“Listen to me Summers,” Dalen said, grabbing her by both shoulders. “I know what you’re feeling. I can practically hear your thoughts screaming. You don’t want to kill another soul. That isn’t how things worked back on whatever backwards world you called home, but this is not Denova, and it is not Earth. This is Korriban, and we are Sith. We rise on the backs of our rivals. If we do not, then others will rise atop both your body and mine. If you cannot accept this, then I will cut you down right now and take my chances alone. Do you understand what has to be done?”

Whatever Buffy was to Dalen – a path to power, an object of concern, whatever else it could be – he was dead set on making clear to Buffy that the old rules of home did not apply.

Her thoughts wandered to her meeting with Malra and Telran in the tombs, and then to her confrontation with Loslar and the twins in the basement. This was a culture of pure Darwinism: the weak would perish and the strong would thrive. Buffy couldn't change such a culture on her own.

And then other memories began to come to the surface. Buffy remembered how weak she had felt after the Council’s sick test on her eighteenth birthday. She remembered her weakness when Riley had left her, and again when her mom had died, and most potently when she had been ripped out of heaven. The deaths of Tara and even Anya had also made her feel helpless and small. Buffy knew what it felt like to be weak, and she swore not to be that weak little girl ever again.

“I’m with you, Dalen,” she said firmly. Buffy surprised herself with how much she meant it. “Let’s do this.”

“I’ll forgive the informality just this once, Summers,” the Overseer said, but his smile said otherwise. “I’ll lead the way. Back me up. We’ll take them by surprise. Don’t look suspicious in the halls. Tuck your lightsaber into your robe pocket. You're fortunate that Darth Arctis didn't remark on it. Acolytes only typically gain a such a weapon at the end of their trials. Follow, now.”

Buffy nodded silently and did as Dalen instructed. The two of them left his study and crept through the dark passages of the Sith Academy until they reached an open portal. The room inside was little more than a large recess being used as a makeshift classroom. The two of them took up positions on either side of the exterior of the archway and listened in.

“What about this one, Falrath?” a deep male voice asked. “What makes her worthy to be Sith?”

“Malra knows her place, my Lord,” a rough female voice answered. “She recognizes her betters and serves well. She is not strong enough to be considered for a path to lordship, but there is a place for her in the Empire. Just not as a true Sith.”

“You may be right, Falrath, but I sense great resolve and cunning in this one. Hidden strength, even. Tell me, Acolyte Malra, is Overseer Falrath right about you, or am I?”

“I would be tested to prove my worth, my Lord,” Malra answered.

“Ah, a worthy answer. And you, boy: I sense your lust for this acolyte. What is your name?”

“Telran, my Lord.”

“Do you see a future with a Sith such as this? Perhaps you dream that you will become lovers once you leave Korriban together?”

“The future is mine to create, my Lord,” Telran hissed.

“Good, you know what it means to be Sith," and the approval was seemingly genuine in the man's voice. "Falrath, you disappoint me. You told me that the one called Loslar was the most promising, yet I do not see a Loslar here. I hear that his family withdrew him, claiming that he was being given assignments unworthy of his station.”

“You are correct, my Lord,” Falrath hissed, and Buffy sensed the female Overseer’s attention shift to Malra and Telran. “He was a known rival of these two.”

“A rival, you say? My reports say he was more of a bully. And his two enforcers, Sappa and Laffa Falos, attempted to forge their task with a false artifact. So sad when pureblooded Sith have to be executed.”

Buffy felt her stomach squirm at the revelation that her prank to help Dalen had inadvertently caused the death of the twin Sith. She forced herself to remember that this was Korriban, not Earth. The rules were different here.

“These two plotted his death,” Falrath protested. “I know they did!”

“If they did, which has not been proven, then they are true Sith. What would you have me do, Falrath?”

“Kill them both! They dilute the purity of the Sith by culling the strong from our ranks!”

“Oh, at the very least, give them a trial by combat. Acolytes, watch carefully. See how two of your fellows, connected in the Force, fare against a true Sith.”

Buffy sensed Dalen trying to get her attention. She could tell that he wanted to strike at Falrath while she was distracted with Telran and Malra, and Buffy couldn’t deny her urge to put this bitch down.

The snap-hiss of a lightsaber ignited inside the room, and Buffy sensed her two allies making ready to defend themselves.

Dalen charged into the room, his steps remarkably silent, and ignited his lightsaber just as the hilt made contact with Falrath's spine, kiling her instantly. The red Sith woman slumped to the ground, her long black hair splaying over her corpse.

Buffy followed a moment later, making the briefest of eye contact with Telran and Malra. They said nothing with words, but the Force conveyed everything.

Joining forces with Dalen, Malra, and Telran, Buffy ignited her own blade and engaged the bald, red Sith man who had to be Darth Crush. His back was quickly against the wall, his lightsaber struggling to defend himself from an onslaught on all sides. Despite facing superior numbers, and Darth Crush held his own.

A wave of Force energy threw the four attackers backward, but they all landed on their feet.

“Acolytes! Defend me!” Crush yelled desperately.

None of the other acolytes moved a muscle, save for a few who smirked at the imminent end of a Sith Lord. They sensed Darth Crush’s weakness, and they knew he was doomed to fall one way or another.

Dalen rose his lightsaber and moved to bring it down upon Crush.

Before he could block, Buffy reached out with the Force to push Crush’s sword arm away from his body, leaving him exposed.

Memories of what she had done to Caleb years earlier echoed through Buffy’s mind as she gazed upon Darth Crush’s dead body.

And suddenly, there was an opening. Buffy was in a position of mild authority in front of those beneath her, and she wouldn't miss this chance to establish herself. This was Korriban, and if she didn't seize any advantage, she would die. "Darth Crush was a traitor, and his execution was warranted by Darth Arctis of the Dark Council. Acolytes Telran and Malra, stay here and make sure the rest of your fellows don’t do anything stupid before the proper authorities come in to clean up this mess.”

Dalen stepped in to take command back from Buffy. “Do as my apprentice commands!”

“Yes, my Lord,” the two lovers said as one before proceeding to get the other acolytes into proper shape.

“Someone will return for you shortly,” Dalen said. “Until then, none of you is to leave this room. Stay. Here," he commanded before turning back to Buffy. "Come, apprentice.”

Dalen strode out of the room with all the confidence of a victorious general, and Buffy echoed his movements. Dalen's path was leading them back towards Darth Arctis’s study, she noted.

“I thought that apprentices were only given to full Sith Lords,” Buffy noted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“And yet, you clearly heard them address me as ‘my Lord,' did you not?” Dalen said with a smile. “You did very well back there, Summers. I do not exaggerate when I say that you are the best student I have ever had the privilege to teach.”

Buffy smiled in return. “I would never have gotten as far as I have without your support, Overseer.” When Dalen looked ready to protest, Buffy added, “You’re not a Lord just yet, remember?”

Dalen chuckled. “We’ll see.”

* * *

“Splendid, splendid. The traitors are dealt with, and a new clutch of promising acolytes is ready to follow your, and thus, my lead.”

Darth Arctis did look and sound quite pleased. All the same, he gave Buffy chills, like something about him was just wrong.

“Overseer Dalen, for your service to the Empire, you are granted the title of Lord of the Sith, with all the privileges and responsibilities that entails.”

Dalen bowed his head to Arctis. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“Many Sith,” Arctis continued, “choose a new name upon gaining Lordship. Something to symbolize what they have become. What will your name be?”

“Shar Dalen is my name, my Lord. It will suffice.”

Darth Arctis chuckled. “Very well, Lord Dalen. As a Lord, you may now take an apprentice of your own. Do I assume correctly that Acolyte Summers is to be that apprentice?”

“Yes, my Lord,” Dalen said proudly. “Acolyte Summers, you will be my apprentice. You will learn the ways of the Force under me. Your trials here on Korriban are over, and a new set of tests await you out in the galaxy proper.”

Buffy decided that it was now proper to bow before Dalen, if only her head so as not to anger Darth Arctis. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“And now,” the Dark Councillor said, “there is one final matter to attend to.” He pressed a button on his desk. “Send them in.”

Buffy heard footsteps and saw Telran and Malra coming down the hall, bowing to Arctis’s when they entered.

“These are the two acolytes who aided you in battle, correct?” Arctis asked.

“Yes, my Lord,” Dalen said. “Darth Crush thought they had potential. Overseer Falrath disagreed.”

“Indeed,” Arctis said. “Summers, what do you think?”

Buffy looked Arctis in the eye, and she could tell that he already knew about her earlier partnership with them. “They proved themselves useful,” Buffy said as coolly as she could. “They could be worthy assets.”

“Is that so? Do you agree, Lord Dalen?”

“It is too soon to say for certain, my Lord, but based on what little I do know, I am inclined to agree with my apprentice.”

“Hm. Well, I do not agree,” Arctis said. “They have been tainted by Darth Crush’s ideas, and are unfit to live any longer. Kill them, Summers.”

Buffy paled and felt her heart catch in her chest. If this was what the most powerful of Sith were, then she had no desire to be Sith at all.

Telran and Malra clearly disagreed. Their training blades were out in an instant, and they made straight for Buffy.

Without thinking, without knowing how, Buffy felt the Force guide her. Her lightsaber ignited in her hand as it moved to cut down both acolytes in one blow, killing them instantly.

Buffy gasped in shock at her own actions, at what she had done on pure instinct.

Darth Arctis laughed and clapped slowly behind her. “Ah, yes. You have to learn, Summers, that all things are temporary. Your little dalliance with those two could have grown into something too large to control. I had to end it before it started you see? Thankfully, you proved compliant.”

Buffy felt a dark rage start to simmer inside her, building to a boil. The cruelty and barbarity of this man was too great to fathom.

“Good, good. I can feel your anger, your rage, building just beneath the surface. You want very much to kill me, don’t you Summers? Be truthful, now.”

“I am going to see you rot in hell,” Buffy snarled.

This only amused Arctis further, and he kept laughing. “Ah, this is good. She has a fire in her, Dalen. She will make a truly powerful Sith. Train her well, or risk my displeasure. Go now and seek arrangements on Dromund Kaas. I will give you further instructions once you arrive.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Dalen said. He did not bow before he turned to leave.

Buffy looked at the dead bodies of her two allies – had they been friends? – on the ground, and then shot a murderous glare back at Darth Arctis.

“Apprentice!” Dalen shouted. “Follow!”

Buffy kept her eyes on Arctis, silently swearing revenge. “Yes, my Lord,” she said absently before following Dalen out of the room.

Dalen did not say a word to her as they walked out of the temple and towards a landing pad where a shuttle awaited them, and Buffy did not say anything back to him. At one point, he caught her gaze, and Buffy felt something in the Force. What it was, exactly, she could not say, but she felt Dalen’s support in at least one matter.

Darth Arctis, whether by her hands or another’s, would die for what he had done.


	6. Faith III - What Needs Doing

“So, let me get this straight,” Faith said to Master Ralto, her voice rising with every syllable. “After all these pilgrims have been through, you’re gonna be the ones to tell them who can and can’t have weapons? These people need to defend themselves!”

“Tython is strong in the Force,” Ralto explained patiently. Faith felt patronized, as if he was treating her like a child. “The Force can influence the weak-minded in subtle ways. The Jedi only want to ensure that the twi’leks are properly equipped to deal with the dangers of this world. If the wrong people are given the wrong tools… Well, you saw what happened with that relic.”

“I was pretty close to it, and I didn’t feel anything strange,” Faith retorted. “And you’re dodging the point, which is that almost all of the pilgrims are ‘weak-minded’ to you. You Jedi really think you’re so much better than everyone else, don’t you? You have the Force, so that gives you the right to decide who lives and who dies. Is that it?!”

“Calm yourself, Padawan,” Ralto said with a touch of impatience. “There is no passion, there is serenity.”

“Tell that to the twi’leks who can’t defend themselves against the Flesh Raiders. Tell them that there is no death. They. Aren’t. Jedi! You can’t expect everyone on Tython to play by your rules just because you got here first!”

“That’s enough, Padawan Lehane!” Ralto said firmly. “I think your time could be better spent on other matters. Return to your quarters and meditate in silence for the next two hours.”

Faith squashed down the urge to yank Ralto around by his head tresses and simply left his meditation chamber without another word. She was brimming with silent anger. Nobody had told Faith to go to her room since one day long ago when her mom had been semi-lucid.

And Faith did not go to her quarters. She was not in the mood to meditate right now. She needed to work out, and the grounds in front of the Jedi Temple had combat droids to train against.

Taking in a breath of Tython's cool, dry air, Faith walked up to the programming podium and set the droid combat protocols to level three: midway between weakest and strongest.

Four bipedal droids unfolded. Two of them were armed with blasters, and another two wielded vibroswords.

Faith charged the blaster-wielding droid on her left, deflecting its blasts as she ran before cutting it in half. Turning around, she sent a push through the Force to slam one of the sword-wielding droids into the other, knocking them both to the ground. They were no longer functional.

Faith took hold of her practice sword like a spear and threw it straight at the final droid, penetrating its metal head and sending it tumbling to the ground in a shower of sparks.

After taking a series of ragged breaths to get the anger out of her system, Faith retrieved her blade and decided to check in back at Kalikori Village. It had been weeks since she’d first promised aid, and the Jedi hadn’t delivered. She had done the best that she could on her own to train the civilians in swordplay, but it wasn’t much. The pilgrims were still grateful, and Faith would be damned if she let that gratitude be for nothing.

As she walked, Faith’s holo-communicator beeped, and she activated it to see a young twi’lek woman talking to her. It was the new village matriarch, Ranna Tao’Ven. The old matriarch, Ranna's mother, had died not days ago.

“Matriarch, I was just on my way to the village," Faith said cordially. "What’s up?”

“Faith, one of our warriors just returned, gravely injured. He was the only survivor of a band of seven. He says that a Flesh Raider killed his companions and gravely injured him.”

“Just one?" Faith asked to confirm. She didn't doubt the new Matriarch, but she had to be sure. "One Flesh Raider did that? I didn’t think any of them were smart enough to take on so many at once and come out on top.”

Ranna Tao'Ven shifted about uncomfortably before speaking. “This Flesh Raider... He had a lightsaber.”

“What?! Matriarch, please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. Faith, you have to help us. The Jedi have turned their backs on us, all save for you. Please, help us, Faith Lehane. You’re our only hope.”

Faith restrained the urge to wriggle a bit at the pressure being put on her, but she wasn’t going to let anything else happen to this village. “All right. I’ll be right there ASAP. Faith out.”

Calling on the Force to invigorate her, Faith ran faster than humanly possible - faster even than she could run as a Slayer - through the mountain pass toward Kalikori Village.

* * *

By the time Faith arrived at the village, she had to stop to take a few breaths to keep herself from falling apart. Even with the Force, there was only so much one could do to stave off exhaustion after a long run through the mountains. After taking a few moments to catch her breath, Faith made her way over to the healing hut, where a concerned-looking twi’lek woman with pale green skin let her inside.

Walking over to the bloody bedside, Faith crouched next to the blue-skinned male Twi’lek and had to suppress a gasp. His left lekku – his head tendril – had been sliced off completely. Faith knew just enough about twi’lek biology to know that lekku were more than just decorative: they were part of the nervous system. This warrior had to be in unimaginable pain.

“Hey there,” Faith said in what she hoped sounded like a soothing and friendly voice. “What’s your name?”

“Raln,” the warrior groaned. “I know you, Faith. You can stop this monster?”

“If I don’t, I’ll die trying.”

“Thank you,” Raln said, his breath clenching.

“Easy there. Come on, work with me, here,” Faith said. She knew that the Force could be used to heal injuries, and she had meditated to heal herself. Could Faith really heal another person who was injured so badly?

She had to try. “Take my hand. It’s okay, trust me.” As Raln put his left hand into Faith's right, she concentrated and tried to clear her mind. She tried to see herself and Raln in the Force. Faith closed her eyes and put some of Master Ralto's training to use. She needed to cede control for a little bit, and while it was scary as all hell to do so, she had to for Raln's sake. So she relaxed her focus, and Faith felt the Force flowing through her. Now that it was with her, Faith directed the flow of that life essence towards Raln, and she made sure to pass along her intentions to ease his suffering. That had been a major point that Ralto had driven into her about the nature of the two sides of the Force: the intentions of the user mattered a great deal.

“Ah.” Raln sighed and let out a long breath. “I don’t know what you did, but thank you. The pain is less.”

“I don’t really know what I did,” Faith admitted. “I just did it.”

“Regardless, thank you. I will help you if I can.”

“Just take it easy, and let me know if it becomes too much,” Faith said. “Tell me what you know about this Flesh Raider. Don’t rush it, take your time.”

“It was larger than the others," Raln said as he struggled to breath, if not as much as before. "And it spoke. Not with a growl or anything feral. It sounded intelligent, and it had a small army of Flesh Raiders behind it. It took us on because it wanted to, not because it had to.”

“All right. You’re doing great, Raln. Can you tell me where this Flesh Raider army was headed?”

“They took a path leading away from the village. They’re not coming here. That path only leads to the Jedi Temple.”

“Damn! You gotta be kidding me!” Faith did not envy herself being the bringer of bad news to the Jedi.

“I wish I was not. But he did not call it the Jedi Temple. He called it the ‘Sanctuary of the Ashla.’ I don’t know what he means, other than that Ashla is one of Tython’s moons.”

“I remember that lesson,” Faith said, Ralto's teachings coming back to her. “Before there were Jedi or Sith, the people here on Tython studied the Force, but not as the good guys and bad guys we have today. They called the light side ‘Ashla’ and the dark side ‘Bogan’ after the moons.”

Faith let go of Raln's hand and stood up. “This is so above my pay grade. I gotta go warn the Jedi.”

“Will they listen to you, Faith?” Raln gasped. “They who trivialize the suffering of our people? They who marginalize your efforts to help us? They will see you as a raving lunatic, trying to rally support for a lost cause.”

Faith shook her head. “No, this is too big. Trust me, they won’t ignore this. They can't”

* * *

“So, you’re just going to ignore this?!”

“Faith,” Master Ralto said in that increasingly annoying and patronizing tone, “nothing we have seen indicates that the Flesh Raiders are in any way intelligent. None of them have the skill to even build a lightsaber. And even if they did, they could not use one.”

“Fine," Faith said angrily. "What about the army coming to destroy the ‘Sanctuary of the Ashla?’”

“The pilgrims have studied Tython’s history just as we have. Some have done so alongside us. This was probably nothing more than a nightmare after a traumatic battle. If his lekku was indeed severed, then he cannot possibly be coherent.”

“This is just…” Faith threw up her hands in disgust. “You Jedi are useless. If you won’t do something about this, then I will.”

“Do not act out in anger, Padawan!” Ralto warned.

“Anger?" Faith was incredulous. And she was angry, but that wasn't the issue here. "This isn’t about me being angry, Master Ralto. This is about me trying to save your sorry ass! Now, get the hell out of my way.”

Shoving herself past Ralto, Faith stormed off. She checked her training blade to make sure it was sharp enough, then holstered it as she made ready to head off the Flesh Raiders.

“Padawan Faith!”

Turning to see Satele Shan walking calmly towards her, Faith groaned. “Master, now is really not a good time.”

“I’m sorry, but this is an urgent matter. Please, come with me.”

Faith shook her head and followed Satele quietly, keeping her riotous thoughts to herself.

The Grand Master led her to a small enclave where the glowing green relic from the twi'lek village sat on a table.

“We’ve been working to try and figure out this device, but it won’t respond to any of us, and I think I know why.”

“What’s your theory, professor?” Faith growled.

Satele ignored Faith’s insubordination. “This relic bears markings that the Republic has only seen in one other place: the Star Forge, which was an ancient factory from an alien empire that predates the Republic. That empire was a thing of the Dark Side. As Jedi, we are simply incompatible with it.”

Faith got the idea. “But you thought, ‘Hey, maybe the crazy chick who’ll never be a true Jedi might just be dark enough to figure the thing out.’ That about right?”

“Inelegantly put, and I do believe that you can become a Jedi. But basically? Yes,” Satele said.

Faith was taken aback by the Grand Master’s honesty. It was a refreshing change of pace “So, how does it work?” she asked with far less hostility.

“We don’t know,” Satele said. “We’ve tried reaching out with the Force to touch every inch of the cube, inside and out. Nothing.”

“Fine, let me take a look,” Faith said with audible impatience.

Before anyone could stop her, Faith had picked up the cube and started to look it over. There were three buttons that she could see on three different sides. One had a horizontal line on it, another had a T shape adorning it, and the third had an H-like shape on it.

“One line,” Faith said, pushing the dashed button, which received an audible beep. “Two lines,” she said a she pushed the T-button. “Three lines,” she finished, pushing the H-button.

As surge of visible energy shot out of the cube and into Faith’s head. Her mind was suddenly awash with visions.

Faith saw Tython as it had been millennia ago, when the first Force-users came to study here. They divided themselves into followers of Ashla and Bogan – light and dark – and thus began the Force Wars. The followers of Ashla triumphed, and the followers of Bogan retreated into the ruins of Kaleth, where the spirits of those fallen warriors still lingered.

Faith saw the Force as a web of energy, spreading across the galaxy, connecting every living thing. And there was another web that connected this cube – datacron, it was called – to several others on so many different worlds all across the galaxy. Through this connection, Faith saw another datacron on Tython. Not far away, across a river, was a Flesh Raider at the head of an army of its kind, a lightsaber in its hand. At least, that was what the body of the thing was. In the Force, Faith saw not a Flesh Raider, but a fallen warrior of Bogan, still bitter with rage and hatred after so many centuries.

The visions receded, and Faith was once again in the Jedi Temple, holding the datacron in her hands.

“Faith? What just happened?” Satele asked.

“A vision,” Faith said. “It showed me the Force Wars. It’s called a datacron, and it’s a little block of information. There’s tons like it all over the galaxy. And it showed me a Flesh Raider with a lightsaber, leading an army of other Flesh Raiders. The one in the lead is possessed by the spirit of a dead warrior from the ruins of Kaleth. They’re heading here, and they’ve already killed a bunch of twi’lek pilgrims.”

“How did we miss this?” Satele wondered aloud.

“You blinded yourself to the obvious!” Faith shouted, no longer able to contain her outrage. “Jedi are supposed to protect people, but you only give that protection to the ‘worthy’ and leave the twi’leks to fend for themselves. So they seek out their own power, leading them to this datacron. They’re unprepared, but that's only because you didn’t prepare them. Don't worry, though. They’re okay now. They’re still getting slaughtered, but that’s not your problem. And because you couldn’t figure out how to push a fucking button, you had to bring in the dumb, backwater hick from Earth to bail you out!”

Satele did not recoil from Faith’s verbal onslaught, but she steeled herself, clearly preparing herself mentally for what was to come.

“Now then, if you’ll excuse me, Master,” Faith said, putting as much bile into the honorific as she could, “I have a Temple to defend.”

* * *

Faith waited in the middle of a creek that the Flesh Raider army would have to wade through in order to reach the Jedi Temple. She had learned enough about meditation techniques – both on Earth and from the Jedi – to know that it would be a good idea to prepare for the coming battle.

She sat cross-legged, hovering in midair, clearing her mind of distractions. And then she felt them coming.

Opening her eyes, Faith unfolded her legs and tried to tune out the water seeping into her boots. An abnormally large Flesh Raider was at the front of a band of about seventy other Flesh Raiders - enough to do considerable damage - and it held a blue-bladed lightsaber in its left hand.

“You!” it said in an angry male voice. “Are you a warrior of Bogan or of the Ashla?”

Faith might not know the deepest lore of the origins of the Force, but she knew an overconfident would-be Big Bad when she saw one. “What? You can’t tell just be sensing me?” she taunted

“I sense both darkness and light in you, young one, but where your true allegiance lies, I cannot tell. What I can tell, however, is that you are incredibly strong. Join me, and through Bogan, we will rule this world, and every other after it.”

Faith couldn't help but 'tsk tsk' at the fallen warrior in Flesh Raider clothing. “Nah, I don’t think that’s gonna work out. Here's what I think is gonna happen. I think I’m gonna kill you, and then your army’s gonna bolt when they see how thoroughly I thrash you. The day is saved, cut to commercial, roll credits.”

“Bah! You speak nonsense. Do you think to challenge me, young one?”

Faith grinned a predator's grin. "Why would I waste my time challenging a pathetic weakling like you? If I want a challenge, I'll go find someone worth my time.”

Faith didn't know much about aliens, but it seemed that insulting someone's masculinity was a universally constant way to piss someone off. With a roar of rage, the possessed Flesh Raider leaped at Faith. The Force carried him through the air towards her remarkably quickly.

Faith simply stepped to the side, letting the Bogan warrior land heavily in the creek.

Knowing her own strengths – smaller size, superior speed and agility – Faith slashed at the beast with her practice sword, not doing a lot of damage to its tough hide, even for a Flesh Raider. All the same, she managed to stay out of reach of the enemy and his deadly energy blade.

“You are pitiful, warrior of Ashla!” it mocked her. “You think you can best me?”

A glint of something in the sunlight caught Faith’s eye, and she moved to the side, trying to get the possessed Flesh Raider into just the right position.

“Maybe, maybe not," she admitted. "You’re a tough one, I’ll give you that. I’ll bet you’re compensating for something. You probably had a tiny dick centuries ago, and I bet its shrunken even smaller since then, eh, tough guy?”

“You dare…?”

“Yeah, I dare.” She sidestepped his lunge again, and the Flesh Raider stalked after her. “What’re you gonna do about it. I’m just a poor, weak, human girl, and you’re a big strong, Flesh Raider manly man.”

Another lunge, another sidestep. “Just try me,” Faith said with a smirk.

The possessed warrior roared with rage, just long enough for an arrow to pierce its head It screamed and fell to the ground in pain.

Faith looked to the hilltop where she saw a blue-skinned Twi’lek archer, and she gave him a quick salute with her spare hand.

The Bogan warrior wasn’t giving up, but he wasn’t getting up, either. “You… cannot… win! I… am…”

Without warning, the warrior exploded, sending shockwaves of blue Force energy through the river valley before receding into an empty loincloth, next to which lay an ancient lightsaber hilt.

Faith strode over confidently to the lightsaber, picked it up, and turned it on. It wasn’t anything like a metal blade. It had no physical substance, no actual weight, but she could feel it in the Force, and it just felt right in a way that she hadn't felt since she'd held the Slayer Scythe in what felt like ages ago.

Looking at the Flesh Raider army, Faith pointed the blue blade straight at them, she smirked, and she gave them one very simple command.

“Run.”

And they did just that, breaking formation and fleeing back into the mountains.

Her mission accomplished, Faith decided that she'd rather err on the side of caution and wait a bit longer, just in case another Flesh Raider got it into their head to come back and try to finish things. Faith rose into the air again and crossed her legs to meditate, though she did so above the ground instead of the creek. She wanted to let her boots dry out a bit.

After a while - time passed in strange ways during Jedi meditation - Faith heard a speeder rounding the bend from the direction of the Jedi Temple. As she put her feet on the ground and opened her eyes, Faith saw Masters Shan, Ralto, and half a dozen others leaped out of the vehicle and run straight towards Faith.

“Took ya long enough,” Faith said, gesturing with her arm for them to sense the energy of the Force around the scene of the duel. “Believe me now?”

“Definitely,” Master Shan said. “It seems that we were too caught up in our own preconceptions that we forgot a crucial part of the Jedi Code. We assumed we were knowledgeable, and we forgot the possibility that we could be ignorant. We all felt the shockwave. I have no idea how you took down a trained soldier from the Force Wars, but we are in your debt.”

“Hey, I had plenty of help.” Faith waved at the hillside, and the twi’lek archer came down the hill.

“Hey, Gaspal! You feeling better now? Delusions from the datacron all gone?”

“Yes, Faith. Thanks to you, we can all rest a bit easier now.”

“You remember Gaspal, right?” Faith said to the Jedi. “The ‘weak-minded’ twi’lek who stumbled upon that datacron? Turns out he’s got some wicked skills with a bow. He took down the bad guy while I had him distracted. Teamwork for the win, am I right?”

Gaspal smiled weakly. “Something like that, yes.”

“Let me see that lightsaber,” Master Ralto said. “Please,” he added quickly.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Faith said with a smile as she handed the weapon to the Nautolan Jedi.

“This,” Ralto said with disbelief. “This is ancient. The design is simple, definitely a precursor to the modern lightsaber. It must have been lying in the ruins of Kaleth for ages.”

“And now, it is yours,” Satele said, taking it from Ralto and handing it back to Faith. “You’ve more than earned this. Your skill in combat, your wisdom, and your compassion all do you great credit. I see no reason why you should remain a Padawan learner.”

“I agree,” Ralto said. “I am not proud to admit my mistakes, but I am not too proud not to acknowledge that I have erred. And I will gladly acknowledge an exceptional student when I see her. Well done, Jedi Faith.”

Faith stood there with her mouth hanging open, taken aback. Finally, she found the ability to speak again. “Thanks, I guess. But I didn’t really do anything all that great. I just did what had to be done, y’know?”

“And yet, you were the only one among us who was willing to _do_ what had to be done,” Satele said gently. “The Jedi Order needs more like you, Faith, who will do the right thing, especially when it isn’t easy, or even apparent.”

“Thank you, Master,” Faith said, genuinely meaning the respect in the title she she felt Satele Shan had earned. “Really, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. I would like you to remain with Master Ralto for a time, traveling with him and helping him throughout the galaxy, if you have no objections.”

“No, that’s cool.” For all his stuffiness, Ralto was a good guy. He might be too much like an old-school Watcher at times, but he really did mean well.

“Excellent,” Ralto said. “I need to speak with the Galactic Senate about recent developments, including Denova, which you can help to give answers about. We leave for Coruscant on the morning shuttle. Go pack your things, Jedi Faith.”

“Roger that, Master Ralto.”

* * *

The next day, Faith sat in the back of the small shuttle, wondering what Coruscant would be like. She’d heard that it was a planet-wide city, but such a thing just didn’t compute in Faith's mind. She closed her eyes allowed her mind to wander in the mostly empty shuttle.

Sooner than she expected, Faith felt the shift from artificial gravity back to normal, planetary G-forces, and she stood up and stretched. It was about time.

The ramp lowered, and Faith walked out of the shuttle…

…and into a familiar apartment that all rational logic told her had been buried in a giant crater.

“Faith!”

She turned around with a start, eyes wide at what she was seeing. “Buffy?”

“We need to talk.”


	7. Interlude - Soft Sheets

Buffy woke up.

After months of living in the harsh deserts of Korriban, Buffy had grown used to a hard slab of rock for a bed. The soft cushion beneath her was both welcome and alien.

Instinctively, Buffy got out of bed and began to smooth the sheets back down. Everything had to be nice and perfect. She had to be ready.

She looked up to see that someone else was making the bed on the other end. Had they been sleeping so peacefully together?

“Faith?”

“Buffy?”

All of a sudden, things became clearer. This bed wasn’t her bed. She wasn’t on Korriban or a ship or Dromund Kaas. This was only the third time she’d ever had one of these shared dreams, and this was the first time she’d had any sort of awareness of what was going on.

“We need to talk.”

Faith laughed. “Yeah, no kidding, B. Where’ve you been? The trains left Denova a while back. Did you find your stop at the other end?”

“I got off somewhere,” Buffy replied, unconsciously going with the flow. “It was hot and sandy.”

“I found a nice place in the mountains,” Faith said as she moved away from the bed to look out the window.

Buffy joined her, though whatever was on the other side of the window was hidden by fog. “The mountains here look like a hooded man staring down into the Valley. A dark man looking over his dark children.”

“Are you a dark child, B?”

“They want me to be one. I think I might be turning into one. What about you?”

“The water here is nice. It’s cool and soothing. It pretends to be peaceful, and it wants to be. But it really isn’t.”

“Jedi?” Buffy guessed.

“Sith?” Faith replied.

“They won’t ever learn, will they?”

“Will we?” Faith asked.

“I didn’t,” Buffy said, and she picked up a pillow off the bed and began to fluff it.

“What happened?” Faith asked as she picked up the other pillow.

“I had to be strong,” Buffy said, putting the pillow down and aligning it just right. “They wanted me to be stronger. The strong survive and the weak die.”

“The way of the world,” Faith said, arranging her pillow next to Buffy’s.

“I was strong, and they were weak,” Buffy said sadly. She vaguely felt like crying, but her body wasn't close to agreeing with her.

“Oh. Oh, no,” Faith said. She sat on the bed and gathered Buffy into her arms, laying the blonde Slayer’s head into her lap.

“They were in love,” Buffy said, and she noticed that her voice was strangely detached from her emotions. “It happened so fast. I said I’d protect them.”

Faith nodded and stroked Buffy’s hair with her open fingers. “That’s what you do, B. You protect people.”

“No,” Buffy protested. “No, it’s not. A dark man wanted me to hurt, so he made me kill them. I want to kill him now, but I don’t want to be dark like that.”

“You won’t be,” Faith said with surety.

* * *

Faith was simultaneously confused and content. She wasn’t supposed to be the comforting type. She wasn’t supposed to be the one holding a Buffy that needed to cry, trying to tell her that everything would be all right.

And yet, here she was, doing just that. The sheets were getting all wet from the tears that welled up but did not flow. Faith would have to hang them out to dry later on. Buffy was what mattered now.

“I know what you’re going through, B.”

“No,” Buffy protested. “How could you?”

Faith took Buffy’s chin between her fingers and locked her green gaze onto her own brown eyes. “I took a life without meaning to once. Was judged and found wanting,” Faith said quietly, her voice oddly detached from the emotions these awful memories evoked in her. “The confusion afterwards, the elation, the thrill to have this power over life itself. All it takes to control that power is to turn off the little voice in your head that says ‘this is wrong.’ You remember that, don’t you?”

Buffy picked up the white linen and wiped her eyes with it. Faith didn’t care that she’d need to wash it out later. Buffy needed it more.

“I forgot,” she said.

Faith shrugged. “Being upset does that. The light men where I am think that emotions leads to darkness. Maybe it can make a sunny day cloudy from time to time, but I’d take a cloudy day over the end of days any day. And that came out weird.”

Buffy laughed, and Faith smiled at her more-than-friend’s happiness, however short-lived. “The dark men are just as foolish. They say there is no peace, but I remember peace.”

Faith noticed how quiet Buffy was, even for this strange dreamscape, and Faith realized that Buffy was remembering her time in heaven. How could she talk to someone who had gone through that?

“I’m so sorry.” She stroked Buffy’s hair some more and wiped a few tears from her cheeks. It wasn’t very Faith-like, but it seemed like the right thing to do. The bed was all a mess, so now she’d straighten Buffy’s hair. “Can I do anything to help?”

“You already are, Faith,” Buffy said with a content sigh. “This place… These dreams… I feel like we’ve been here more than we have. And when we’ve been here, it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist, and there’s no need to worry about it. Here, I can just be me, y’know?”

“Yeah, Buffy. I know.”

A subtle shift of Buffy’s head made Faith suddenly aware of the intimate position they were both in. Buffy was beautiful beyond compare, but she was… She was Buffy! And this dream wasn’t about them. Well, it was, but not like that.

“Hey, Faith?”

“Yeah, B?”

“Do you think we’ll ever get back home?”

“I dunno. Do you think we’ll find each other out there?”

* * *

“I really hope so.” Buffy shifted her head and breathed in the comforting scent of the apartment. It was a pleasant mix of air freshener, soft sheets, and Faith.

Buffy put on her mental breaks and backed up a few meters. Where had that come from? Was Faith-smell really such a good thing?

“What’re you thinkin’ about, B?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, I was just wondering how the gang back in Cleveland is doing.”

“Yeah, so am I. What’re you really thinking, Buffy?”

“Sorry.” Buffy felt so silly. “I just… This place, here, with you… It just feels right. It feels like more than it seems. And I want this to happen out there, without the war and the Force and other worlds. I just want a place to call home with you.”

“With me?”

“I think so,” Buffy said, not quite sure where she was going, but she went on anyway. “We’re stuck out here together. Only, we’re together here, in this not-place. If we can find each other out there, then we can team up and take on the universe together, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so. How’re we gonna do that?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy said. “But we are going to find each other, right?”

“Definitely. Hey, B?”

“Yeah, Faith?”

“I want to kiss you now.”

Buffy smiled and took her head out of Faith’s lap and looked into her eyes. “Why?”

Faith shrugged. “It feels right. May I?”

Buffy put a finger to Faith’s lips, shushing her as she reached up to kiss the brunette Slayer. She wondered why she did this, but she didn't question it so much as it suddenly felt so right.

It was something kind of like love.

* * *

“That was nice,” Buffy said.

“Yes, it was,” Faith agreed. It had been _very_ nice.

“I think I know you now,” Buffy said. “I mean, I knew you already, but I think I know you differently now.”

“I know what you mean,” Faith said. “I know you know me, and I know you, and you know I know you.”

“Do we really know that?”

“I don’t know.”

They both turned to look at the bed. “What a mess we have made,” Faith said.

“Who’s going to clean it up?” Buffy asked.

“Room service can handle it. I think I have to go now. Lots to do.”

“Yeah, same here. There’s always something.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Faith said with a smirk.

A knock came from the door.

“They’re here to make the bed,” Buffy said.

“We should let them in,” Faith said, reaching for the doorknob. “But we’ll both be back here again sometime soon.”

Buffy placed her hand over Faith’s. “We should try a new set of sheets.”

Faith turned the doorknob.

Buffy woke up.


	8. Buffy IV - Welcome to the Jungle

“What are you thinking about, Summers?”

Buffy shook her head to clear it of the hazy cloud within and turned to face Dalen. “Huh?"

“You’ve been very quiet ever since we left Vaiken Spacedock,” the newly-minted Lord said. “Normally, you never shut your mouth.”

“I’m that bad, am I?” she said, already knowing the answer

“You are,” Dalen answered with a wry grin. “You’re also overly familiar with your superiors.”

“And yet, you don’t order me to correct the error of my ways,” Buffy pointed out with a self-satisfied smile.

“There are certain times and places where the proper forms must be observed. Outside of those times and places, I have no use for a simpering sycophant whose only aim is to please me,” Dalen explained. “Too many Sith mistake dominance for power. We are creatures of strength. Being forced into servitude breeds contempt, especially among strong beings such as Sith. I have no desire for you to turn on me, Summers.”

Buffy observed Dalen carefully, trying to understand the man who was now something more than just a teacher or a captor. “You don’t seem like most Sith, Da… My Lord,” Buffy quickly corrected herself. She hated the formalities, but the Sith made the old Council of Watchers look like fluffy puppies by comparison. Even if Dalen claimed that there was a time and a place for such things, Buffy didn't want to risk a more conservative eavesdropper getting on her case. “I don’t think Darth Arctis would approve of some of your views.”

“Ah, but he doesn’t need to know, does he?" Dalen said. "And you haven’t answered my question. What were you thinking about, Summers?”

“Well,” Buffy said, “what does the Force tell you? You told me that you can tell what I'm feeling through the Force, right? What are my feelings screaming out right now?”

“I shan’t say right now,” Dalen said with a smirk. “Consider this a test of honesty. And it depends on the person. Your feelings speak out louder than most. You will need to learn a measure of control if you don't want others prying into your thoughts.”

“All right, I get it, you jerk,” Buffy spat half-heartedly.

“I don’t know what that word means,” Dalen said, “but I’m certain you meant it with all the respect due your Master.”

“Oh, of course,” Buffy said with a smirk of her own. “To be honest, I was thinking about my friend from Denova.”

“You told Darth Arctis that you had a _cousin_ on Denova,” Dalen noted. “A man or a woman?”

“Woman,” Buffy answered almost immediately. “Definitely a woman.”

“I see. What is your real relationship with her? And don’t lie to me.”

Buffy knew that Dalen had offered her a lot of leeway with many things in the past, but she didn’t want to test his patience. Compared to a lot of other Sith that had tasked her with errands and trials on Korriban, Dalen was practically a teddy bear. “We’ve been so many different things: friends, enemies, rivals, allies. We've been all of those things, but not always in that order, and none of them only once.”

“She isn’t your family, then?” Dalen asked, not unkindly.

“She is family,” Buffy said with a certainty that she hadn’t expected from herself. “We’ve been through too much together, and my family is more than blood.”

Hugging her chest, Buffy realized how cold and stale the air in the shuttle was. “My family is so far away now. Even Faith… I don’t know what happened to her on Denova, but I do know that she's alive. I don't know how I know that, but I just do.”

“Ah, I see.” Dalen had a look somewhere between smugness and compassion on his face, and it annoyed Buffy greatly. “You two are bonded in the Force. I can feel your connection, even if I can't sense the individual at the other end.”

“What?” Buffy was lost, and her face registered a sort of dull surprise.

Dalen took a single deep breath before continuing. “For two or more beings who have a certain level of closeness or intimacy,” he explained, now in full-fledged teacher-mode, “the Force recognizes that closeness and forms a bond that is stronger than any physical or social thing. The very stuff of the universe binds you to each other, no matter how far apart you are in the physical world. It is in some ways the truest form of marriage: two souls bound to each other in the Force, forming a greater whole than either individual could ever be alone.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I am not married to Faith!” Buffy protested. The very thought of marriage implied dating, and dating implied things like shopping together, dancing together, slaying together, and just a lot of togetherness in general. Only now that the thought was in her mind, Buffy couldn't get it out. Maybe Faith wasn't into shopping like Buffy was, but they _had_ been 'the Chosen Two,' as Faith had dubbed them. They had slayed so many vampires and demons together both before and after Sunnydale collapsed, and just thinking about dancing... Before everything had gotten so complicated, when Buffy and Faith were on the same wavelength, they had danced together, and their bodies had been in total sync with each other. There had been boys admiring them, but Buffy couldn't remember her focus being on anyone other than Faith. And now she couldn't help but wonder if she had had feelings for Faith that had gone unrealized until, possibly, right now.

“I did not mean that word in its literal, societal sense,” Dalen said a touch impatiently, bringing Buffy back down to what passed for Earth. “What matters is that you two are joined on a metaphysical level, and that is something that cannot be taken for granted, ever. If you can sense this person in the Force, no matter the distance, then you are truly privileged to have someone so close to your spirit.”

Something in Dalen’s voice hinted at… Buffy didn’t know what it hinted at, but there was something he wasn’t sharing. It was probably something private. And the notion of private thoughts made Buffy even more wary of her own feelings, even though or maybe especially because she couldn't tell what they were just yet.

The shuttles intercom beeped on. “Attention, passengers: we have entered the Dromund system. We will touch down at Kaas City Spaceport in approximately forty-five standard minutes. Fasten your safety harnesses and prepare for extreme turbulence.” The intercom clicked off.

“Extreme turbulence?” Buffy asked, turning to look at Dalen.

“Dromund Kaas,” he explained, "has no normal cycle of day and night as you know it. The entire planet is in a state of perpetual twilight because of the lightning storms that ravage the atmosphere without end.”

“That’s not all, is it?” Buffy felt like this wasn't something she should press, but the apprehension in Dalen's voice made it impossible not to.

“No,” Dalen acknowledged. “You are truly insightful. The storms are said to be the work of the Emperor himself, conjured in a dark ritual centuries ago.”

Dalen’s hushed voice sent shivers down Buffy’s spine as she pondered the meaning of his words, which were among the first she had ever heard about the supreme leader of the Empire himself. “You’re afraid of the Emperor, aren’t you?” It was less of a question than a statement of fact, though she couldn't help but make it sound like an accusation.

“Any sane being would be,” Dalen countered. “But it is highly unlikely that either of us shall ever meet Him. He is nothing like the Republic’s Supreme Chancellor, or even the Grand Master of the Jedi Order. Those are public figures who age and die like any other being in this galaxy.

“Those in the Republic would tell you that their society is the combined strength and productivity of all its citizenry. The Empire, on the other hand, is a thing of the Sith. And the Sith, however strong they might be, are a thing of the Emperor. He is quite literally not a mere mortal, Summers,” Dalen said quietly. “To some in the Empire, He is a god. To others, He is a distant figurehead who is never seen. To Sith, like us, He is our supreme master; seldom seen but ever-present. Do you understand?”

Buffy hadn’t expected the sheer awe from the former Overseer. “Yeah, I think so,” she said, and her voice shook a bit despite her best efforts. “I, uh, didn’t realize he was that powerful. You almost sounded like you were worshiping him.”

“Did I, really?” Dalen said, sounding suddenly lighter. “How interesting. I suppose I’m a good Sith and Imperial citizen, after all.”

Buffy couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, that you are.”

The shuttle began to heave to and fro heavily, and loud claps of thunder could be heard even through the hull.

“You’re sure this thing is gonna hold together?” Buffy asked.

“Oh, quite sure,” Dalen answered. “Only select craft are able to safely weather these storms on a regular basis. It’s part of the Empire’s defense. You aren’t nervous are you?”

“Nervous? About passing through a Force-conjured storm to land in the capital of the Sith Empire, where a sadistic bastard is waiting to give us orders? No, why would I be nervous?”

Dalen laughed, and Buffy smiled along with her Master. Despite their differences in age and station, Buffy was hoping she could call Shar Dalen a friend some day.

* * *

The clothing vendor at the spaceport was - Buffy had decided - a supremely cunning and resourceful man. He had taken one look at Buffy and insisted that she purchase a waterproof robe, boots, and gloves before heading into Kaas City proper. After only a few seconds outdoors on Dromund Kaas, Buffy was remarkably glad that she had taken the advice of both Dalen and the vendor and purchased a matching set of garments. Besides being waterproof, the attire was both comfortable and stylish, with intricate red curves decorating the black fabric.

While waiting for a speeder to pick them up from the spaceport, Buffy’s thoughts immediately flashed to Riley. The endless jungles and the heat and humidity... Was this what he had to endure when he was out hunting demons in South and Central America? The howls and roars of predatory beasts from the alien foliage only reinforced her instincts as the Slayer. Whether it was here in the jungle or in the city that she was told they were headed, Buffy would be surrounded on all sides by enemies.

After about ten minutes of waiting, Buffy felt someone coming. Turning her head, she saw a bald, white-skinned, tattooed Rattataki slave came scurrying up to Dalen from the taxi pad. She bowed before him as a slave would before her master. And considering that the only non-humans allowed to be free at all were Pureblood Sith, excepting those in training to become Sith, this woman had to be a real slave. Buffy had only really interacted with an Imperial slave once as part of her training on Korriban. Seeing the practice normalized here was sickening. “My Lord Dalen," the woman said, her voice low and servile, "my Master, Darth Arctis, commands your presence at the Citadel immediately. To that end, he has supplied a private speeder. Please follow me.”

Dalen simply nodded in acknowledgement. “Very well. Lead the way, slave.”

The Rattataki bowed her head again and led Dalen and Buffy to a closed-cover speeder with black-tinted windows. Given the size, it was built for either many passengers or else for cargo. And given the windows, it was meant to hide whomever or whatever was inside.

“Uh, Dalen?” Buffy said, feeling apprehensive. “Do you see the dark, van-like vehicle we’re about to get into?”

“You must start calling me ‘Master,’ Summers. And I do not know what a ‘van’ is. What of it?”

“I dunno," Buffy confessed. "I just have a bad feeling about this, I guess.”

“You must trust your feelings,” Dalen said as he stepped up into the vehicle. “But you must also learn to obey, and right now, I am commanding you to silence yourself and get in the speeder.”

Dalen didn’t raise his voice at all, but Buffy felt a hot anger begin to simmer in her chest. “Of course, Master,” she said between clenched teeth, following him into the black van that wasn’t a van.

Buffy sat down on a hard metal slab of a seat and looked across from her to see the Rattataki slave, no longer looking docile and compliant, but wearing a heavy scowl on her face and holding a wicked-looking pair of long, curved knives in either hand on her lap.

“Uh, Master…”

“Did I or did I not command you to be silent, Summers?”

Buffy glowered at Dalen quietly before returning her eyes to the Rattataki woman sitting across from her. Buffy would very much prefer it if those knives - if she couldn't wield them herself - would stay where they were. _‘No sudden moves,’_ she told herself.

The speeder took off, and Buffy felt its path take several twists and turns for a trip down what was felt less like a single winding path and more like taking the longest and most convoluted route possible to get somewhere. Not knowing anything about Dromund Kaas beyond a few basics, Buffy had no idea where they were going, and the windows kept her from looking out just as much as they kept anyone else from looking in.

After a little over half an hour, the sound of the engine winding down prompted Buffy to stretch her legs as much as she could without touching or offending the Rattataki with the knives. She was ready to get out of the cramped vehicle.

A hand clamped itself over her forearm, and Buffy’s eyes found Dalen’s cold gaze. “This is not for you, Summers. Not yet. Stay here. I will return shortly.”

Dalen turned to the Rattataki woman. “Watch her, humor her verbosity. Do not harm her unless she tries to flee.”

“I understand,” the bald, white-skinned woman said tonelessly. “Summers, look away from the door.”

Buffy scowled, but those knives, long and curved and sure to be made of lightsaber-proof cortosis… They kept her from doing anything rash. In this cramped space, the Rattataki would have the advantage.

Buffy turned her head away from the door, keeping her eyes on the knives on the woman’s lap. When the door opened behind her, Buffy heard a few parts of a few sentences, Dalen’s name, and the name of another Sith Lord - identifiable by the title 'Darth' preceding it - that Buffy didn’t recognize.

Once the door closed behind her, Buffy turned back to face the chalk-white woman with the black facial tattoos in front of her. “So, I take it you’re not really a slave, right? I’m guessing the Empire doesn’t let slaves carry weapons like that. Gotta admire that craftsmanship, though.”

The woman snorted. “Interesting. You are not like most Sith.”

“Really?” Buffy asked, unable to tell from the alien's voice if she was curious or disgusted. “How so?”

“You speak to me as an equal. You may believe one thing about my station, or you may believe another, but back at the spaceport, you did not look down at me as an abhorrent alien.”

Buffy chuckled at the notion that she was somehow expected to act like an elitist ass. “Look, um… I don’t have a name, and I have trouble pronouncing your species's name, and I don’t want to call you something that sounds too much like ‘rat,’ so what should I call you?”

“You will not have my name. Call me whatever you wish.” The bald woman’s voice was raspy and deep.

“Gotcha. Let’s go with a classic: call you Ishmael," Buffy said, feeling quite satisfied with herself for remembering the first three words of 'Moby Dick.' "Now, as for not looking down on you, I come from a place where there isn’t any slavery. At least, there hasn’t been in my country in a few generations. At least not legally. Anyways, since I got here, I've also met quite a few non-humans who wanted to kill me, and others who were perfectly content with not trying to kill me. I didn’t grow up in the Empire, so don’t expect me to act like a typical Sith at all. Or even a typical Imperial who isn't a Sith.”

‘Ishmael’ nodded quietly, seeming to accept this explanation for the time being. “You would take aliens as allies, then?”

“So long as they didn’t try to kill me, and they added to the team, then yeah, no problem.”

“Say that again,” 'Ishmael' said, a dangerous touch of urgency in her voice.

Buffy sighed. “I said that if they didn’t try to kill me, and if they helped the team, then-“

“There! That word!” the Rattataki woman hissed. “I have never heard a Sith outside this…”

“Outside this what?” Buffy asked. “Where are we?”

“That is not your concern!” the woman snapped, her fingers tightening around the handles of her knives. “Most Sith,” she continued in a tense voice, “do not think of their allies as ‘teams’ or partners. Why would you think in such a way? What benefit is there to treating your allies as if they were your equals and not your subordinates?”

Buffy was confused as all hell, but she decided to humor the woman. “Well, Ishmael, I'm a good fighter. It's what I do, and I've been doing it well for quite a while. Despite all that, I can't do everything. I have my weaknesses and my blind spots. I have friends who…”

“Friends?!” The word came out as a gasp.

“Yeah, do you have a problem with that?” Buffy challenged. “Like I was saying, I have friends who don’t share my skills. My strengths are their weaknesses, and their strengths are my weaknesses. Any Sith, or any person, who tells you that they can do everything on their own is lying through their teeth. If they, uh, have teeth. I don’t know which species have teeth and which don’t. Anyway, we trust each other, we work together, we share in the success, and we all grow stronger as a result. We don’t stand atop each other; we rise or fall together. Everyone wins, except for the bad guys.”

Ishmael narrowed her eyes and glared at Buffy, as if trying to see through some façade that wasn’t there. “You are very strange for a Sith,” she said at last, seeming outwardly calm for the moment.

“Yup. Sure am,” Buffy agreed.

About ten minutes passed before a knock on the door prompted Buffy to turn away for the door to open and admit Dalen back into the speeder. Buffy caught a few more seconds of chatter and the same unknown Sith Lord’s name from outside, and then the door closed again.

“Was my apprentice cooperative?” Dalen asked the Rattataki woman.

“She calls me 'Ishmael' and babbles at length about things antithetical to the Sith,” she said with what might have been a smirk. The facial tattoos made it hard to tell.

“Is that so?” Dalen said, amusement creeping into his voice. “Well, we’ll have to do something about that, won’t we? But not now, I think. Let us be off.”

* * *

Another thirty-something minutes passed before the speeder stopped again. “Out,” Ishmael ordered.

“As you say, boss-lady,” Buffy teased, opening the speeder door and dutifully hopping out. She was surprised to find herself right back at the spaceport.

Dalen was at her side a moment later, and just like that, the speeder took off again to parts unknown.

“That wasn’t a meeting with Darth Arctis, was it?” Buffy asked.

“How astute of you to notice,” Dalen said. “Let us head inside before we head into the city proper. I haven’t eaten since we left Vaiken Spacedock.”

“Your treat?” Buffy asked innocently.

“Yes,” Dalen said, his voice sounding quietly suspicious. “You are my responsibility. Why do you ask? I sense some sort of mischief from you, Summers.”

“No, no mischief here. Just that you’ve never shared a meal with me after I haven’t eaten for a while. I have a very fast metabolism. For a human, that is. I eat a lot.”

“Ah. I suppose it is fortunate that I am also quite hungry. We will have plenty of time before we need to head back out into the muck of the jungle.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Buffy said.

Dalen led Buffy to a small cantina near the gate to the arrivals area. They sat down at a table and began to peruse the menu.

“I imagine, Summers,” Dalen said, “that you have many questions about the little side trip we just took.”

“A few, yeah,” Buffy agreed.

Dalen sighed and put down his menu. “Very well. I will allow one question for now, and only one. Make it count, Summers.”

“All right,” Buffy said. She thought about Ishmael, about her knives, about her attitudes, and even about her facial markings. And then she thought about the snippets of conversation she’d heard coming from outdoors, and that one Sith Lord’s name that she didn’t recognize, but was important enough that she'd heard it mentioned twice. Buffy was curious, so she asked her one question.

“Who is Darth Revan?”


	9. Faith IV - Priorities

“Attention passengers: we are now entering Coruscant’s upper atmosphere. Please fasten your safety harnesses and enjoy the view.”

Faith chuckled as she strapped herself in. “The captain seems awfully chipper.”

Master Ralto smiled kindly at his former Padawan. “You are one of many on this shuttle who have never been to the Republic’s capital before. Most have never seen anything like it.”

“Yeah, you said it’s like one big city, but I don’t get how… Holy. Fucking. Shit.”

Faith could sense Master Ralto’s disappointment at her burst of profanity, but Faith found herself unable to care. Looking out the window, Faith could see the tops of skyscrapers as if they were a city unto themselves, and the ship hadn’t even descended beneath the clouds yet. The sheer scale of such a thing was too much for her to fathom.

“I sense much excitement in you, Faith,” Ralto said with mirth.

“Gee, I wonder what gave that away?” Faith retorted without any real bite, returning her gaze to the windows as they passed through the cloud cover.

As the clouds fell behind them, Faith was treated to orderly lanes of flying cars navigating their way through towering skyscrapers and over massive monuments to the Republic’s history.

And then…

“Whoa!”

Faith put a hand to her head, which suddenly ached from screams of agony and pain and anger and hurt of all sorts.

A moment later, the feeling was gone.

“Ralto, what the fuck just happened?”

“Mind your tone, Faith. As for what happened,” Ralto said with a sad sigh, “see for yourself. Down there.”

Faith followed the Nautolan Master’s gesture to the ruin of what must have once been a great temple of some sort. It looked like it had once been a great square monument with towers jutting out at its four corners, as well as a fifth tower in the center.

“The Sacking of Coruscant,” Ralto intoned, his voice tinged with sadness. “Ten years ago, at the height of battle between the Republic and the Empire, the Sith unexpectedly sued for peace. Delegations were sent to meet at Alderaan. All of the senior most Jedi and Republic diplomats were there."

“They pulled a fast one, didn’t they?” Faith guessed, her eyes following the ruin even as they flew further away.

“I don’t know what a ‘fast one’ is, but if you mean to say that they deceived us, they did. While the Jedi and the Republic prepared for peace, the Empire launched a surprise attack on Coruscant, starting with a shuttle full of Sith crashing into the Jedi Temple itself.”

“Whoa,” Faith said again. “I’m guessing this tale ends with the Sith breaking their chains, right?”

“You have become awfully interested in the Sith ever since we left Tython,” Ralto said carefully. “What prompted this sudden curiosity?”

“I dunno. The showdown with the Bogan warrior, I guess," Faith said, but it was only half-true. Something else had prompted her interest in the Sith, but she couldn't rightly say what it was. "Getting back to what’s down there, I can’t help but feel there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“It is a memory I do not wish to revisit, but I was there,” Ralto said, and Faith detected a hint of anger beneath his usually calm surface as the Nautolan closed his large black eyes and breathed slowly. “I saw the Sith butcher so many of my fellow Jedi, cut down in front of me, and then buried as the Sith brought the temple down upon them, detonating bombs from within as their ships blasted it from without, taking a torch to a legacy stretching back millennia.”

“Damn.” Faith didn’t know what else to say. “So, the war went on, right?”

“No, it did not,” Ralto said with a deep breath. “The Empire held Coruscant hostage to obtain the territories and materiel it wanted from the Republic, and then ‘peace’ was brokered. But it won’t last. Already, both sides are testing the other. This is a Cold War now, just waiting to burst into flames.”

“Cold War, huh?” Faith said. “No nuke big enough to stop another war, I guess. Hey, I thought that Tython was the home of the Jedi. Now you’re saying it’s here on Corsica?”

“Coruscant,” Ralto corrected patiently. “The Jedi Order began on Tython thousands of years ago, but relocated to Coruscant when the Republic was formed. The Jedi became guardians of the Republic, sworn to uphold and protect it. After the Sacking, however, many in the Republic blamed the Jedi for failing to protect them. We had nowhere to go until Master Shan rediscovered Tython. Once it was found again, we built a Temple there and began to rebuild the Order.”

“Wait, stop and go back a bit,” Faith said. “How did you lose Tython? I mean, did it just fall off the map? How do you un-discover an entire planet?”

“Navigating hyperspace is not as simple as jumping form point aurek to point besh, Faith. It is a complicated science that I do not fully understand. To put it simply, hyperspace is like an body of water. It has tides that ebb and flow, currents that change direction from time to time. As these currents shift, safe passageways are formed and destroyed. Tython’s location was never lost, but the way to safely travel there was only recently found by Master Shan.”

“Damn. Satele’s got some tricks up her sleeve. Or, she would if she had sleeves. Does she always go bare-armed? Not complaining; she pulls the look off really well.”

“Attention passengers," the captain's voice said over the speakers. "We’ll be touching down momentarily at the Senate Tower Spaceport. Please return to your seats, fasten your safety harnesses, and stand by for planetfall.”

Faith tuned out the captain and took a moment to contemplate the Grand Master of the Jedi Order if she was a few years younger. She was still a looker, but shave a few years off... Now that would be something to see.

A brief shudder told Faith that they had touched down.

“We have arrived at the Senate Tower Spaceport. Thank you for flying with us, and have a pleasant day.”

“I’m glad you brought up the subject of vestments,” Ralto said as he unfastened his seat harness.

“Huh?”

“Clothing and armor. Your apprentice’s robes will likely not suffice in the tumult of galactic conflict.”

Faith snickered. “Yeah, no kidding. Brown and white isn’t really my style. They got shops here in the spaceport? I could use some new threads.”

“Of course,” Ralto said patiently. “I’m sure we can find some suitable garments for you in no time at all.”

* * *

“Force grant me strength,” Ralto groaned after ninety minutes in the shop. “How much longer are you going to be in there, Faith?”

“Aw, I thought you Jedi were all about patience and serenity, all that jazz,” Faith said from within the dressing room.

“That should be ‘we Jedi’ now, Faith, and you are truly giving us all a bad name. How much longer are you going to be in there?”

“I gotta find a look that works, Ralto. This stuff is important. Not to mention I gotta get a feel for the protective gear. You promise that these threads actually have cortosis in them?”

“Yes, Faith,” Ralto said, feeling an ache in his head tresses. “It’s weaved into the fabric to allow both for flexibility and for protection. Against a physical attack, however, it might not hold up so well.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you to be so concerned,” Faith said. “Don’t worry about me: I can hold my own. And I’m coming out now, so give me your honest opinion, okay?”

“I am always honest, Faith,” Ralto said, calling upon the Force to heal him of his building stress.

The door to the changing room opened, and Faith stepped out in what had to be the most un-Jedi-like outfit she could have possibly picked. She wore a blood red top that left her arms and shoulders bare, black pants that shone as if they were made from some overly treated animal hide, black boots with incredibly thick heels that increased Faith’s height by a good three inches or so, black wristbands that seemed to highlight the ridiculous pattern inscribed on her right upper arm, and she held in her hands a black jacket of some sort that he assumed would cover what her skimpy top did not.

“So, whadaya think?” she asked, twirling about to give him a good look at all angles.

“I think,” Ralto said after a few tense moments of silent thought, “that it is a good thing Master Shan agreed to reward you with a decent stipend for a new Jedi Knight, as I will not be seen paying for any of this.”

“Don’t worry, Ralto,” Faith said reassuringly. “I’m not about to go all Queen of the Dark Side on you. I just like this look. Besides, it’ll help throw people off guard. They see me, they won’t think ‘Jedi,’ y’know? It’s an edge they won’t expect.”

“Given how tightly those clothes fit on you, I can guess that many humans won’t be thinking much at all when they see you,” Ralto said with a snort. “I had a human friend when I was a Padawan who came to the Temple dressed like you are right now. The Masters had to keep reminding the human boys, and quite a few girls as well, that there is no passion, there is serenity.’ Those lessons didn’t seem to take until she was forced to adorn proper Jedi robes.”

Faith laughed. “Yeah, I’ll bet. And you know how much I hate that part of the Jedi Code.”

“Faith…” Ralto began.

“Sorry! I don’t ‘hate’ it, literally. It’s just a way of saying that I don’t agree with it, y’know?”

“Yes, I know,” the Nautolan Jedi said. “Just be mindful of your words and your feelings. These are important things, especially for a Jedi.”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, Ralto, I’ll be careful. Yo, sales boy! Can I pay for these now?”

Ralto hung his head and closed his eyes as he felt a poor young clerk find himself suddenly drawn to Faith in more ways than one.

* * *

Faith tried to ignore the strange looks that people kept shooting her as she walked through the Senate building with Master Ralto, but the feelings she picked up were harder to shrug off. Lust was expected, but fear and anger were something she was unprepared for.

“Don’t be so surprised,” Ralto chided her. “Your choice of apparel is more appropriate for a Sith than a Jedi.”

“What?! Damn, why didn’t you stop me, then?”

“I did try, but you were insistent that this is ‘your look,’ if you recall. You did want a look that didn't speak 'Jedi' to any who saw it, correct? Perhaps it can be worked into an advantage, but all the same, be ever mindful of your surroundings.”

Faith nodded. “You got it, Ralto.”

“I notice,” the Nautolan Jedi said as they turned into an ornately carpeted hallway, “that you have stopped calling me ‘Master’ since your elevation to full Jedi.”

“Was I supposed to keep doing that?” Faith said idly, more intrigued with the historic paintings adorning the walls than on Ralto’s words.

“It is considered proper,” Ralto said with a sigh. “You were not raised in our culture, so I can forgive these slights, as they are minor and only wound my pride, which is not a Jedi virtue in the first place. Other Jedi, however, will take issue with what they will see as a lack of respect. Between your lack of regard for my title and your choice of dress, I wonder if perhaps you truly care what others think of you, Faith.”

“Should I?” Faith said. She regretted saying it the moment the words left her lips, but it was too late to take it back.

“Of course you should!” Ralto said harshly, stopping his walk and placing a hand on Faith’s shoulder.

Faith bristled a bit at the contact, but did not protest aloud. “Why all the fuss, Ralto?” And she did want to know what his answer would be. Despite that she didn't call him 'Master,' Faith did value the man's opinion.

“Because, Faith: as a Jedi, your behavior reflects on the entire Order and on the Republic. You are an ambassador of goodwill to the rest of the galaxy, and if you do not take heed of what the people of this galaxy want and need, then you will only serve to harm our efforts and hinder the greater good.”

“Damn!” Faith had been expecting a guilt trip, just not one quite that big. “Jedi really are all that, huh?”

“Yes, Faith. Jedi are indeed ‘all that’ and a great deal more. You would know this if you had paid greater attention in your studies.”

Faith shrugged, brushing Ralto’s hand from her shoulder and resuming her walk. “Sorry, Ralto. I’ve never been the studying type. School and I never really got along. But that's a story for another time. This the place?”

“Yes,” Ralto said curiously as they came to a stop. “How did you know? I thought you hadn’t been here before.”

“I haven’t," Faith answered honestly. :I just sorta felt you about to stop here. Not really sure how else to describe it.”

“I see." Ralto stayed silent for a moment longer than Faith felt comfortable with. "Your connection to the Force is strong, there is no doubt of that. I only hope your judgment proves equal to your capabilities.”

“Don’t sweat it, Ralto,” Faith said as she opened the door and walked into a conference room filled with at least half a dozen men and women in a variety of uniforms and formal work attire.

“Ah, Master Ralto. Thank you for joining us,” a well-dressed human woman said. She had a healthy pale complexion and light brown hair done up in a style Faith had never seen before.

“The pleasure is mine, Senator Kayl. This is my former apprentice, Faith Lehane. She’s just been elevated to the rank of Jedi Knight. Faith, this is Senator Vanara Kayl of Coruscant.”

The hardly unattractive woman smiled thinly. “Not for much longer, I fear. I made some serious errors in judgment that will likely lead to my forced resignation sometime soon. I am not here as a Senator, but merely as an adviser to the current state of things on Coruscant. I’m sorry I don’t have much time to get to know you, Jedi Lehane, but there is much work to be done.”

Faith merely nodded, not sure what to say. This woman screamed 'politician' even more than the Mayor had, and such was not her element at all. “Sure, no sweat.”

Kayl arched an eyebrow at what Faith realized must be an odd phrase for this galaxy, and then walked back to the conference table. “Settle down, everyone. Now that Jedi Master Ralto has joined us, we can discuss recent developments. I know this was going to be a discussion of affairs further away from the capital, but revelations have come to light that cannot be ignored.”

“Are you talking about dealing with armed gangs to win your seat, Senator?” a dark-skinned man in white armor sneered.

“If only things were that light and easy to deal with, Major Cortland. No, I’m talking about a report that came in from the Works. A smuggler who’s been helping deliver aid to Ord Mantell first delivered the news, and it has since been verified by a Jedi who was also passing through the area on business. People, the Empire has taken up residence in the ruins of the Jedi Temple.”

A round of hushed whispers cut through the air. Faith wondered just how sloppy the Republic had gotten if they’d allowed the enemy to land on their capital. "Why the Jedi Temple?” she asked. “It’s already been destroyed, right. Are they looking for something buried there, or is it a staging ground for something bigger? And why aren’t the Jedi digging through those ruins to look for all the lost artifacts and shit that have to be there?”

“A good question,” the man known as Major Cortland said, turning his gaze to Ralto. “Did you already know about this? Is that why Jedi Lehane is dressed to infiltrate an Imperial presence?”

“We did not know of this, I assure you,” Ralto said. “As to Faith’s choice of dress, she assures me that it is normal for her homeworld, which was only discovered in recent months by both the Republic and the Empire.”

“Still, the Major does have a point,” Senator Kayl said. “Jedi Lehane, you do look remarkably like a Sith. Had you not been in the presence of a renowned Jedi Master, you’d probably be locked up right now if not dead.”

“Gee, thanks a lot," Faith half-snarled. "Aren’t you guys supposed to be at peace? And since when has making a fashion statement been a crime?” Faith remarked.

“The 'peace' is a mere formality,” Kayl said dismissively. “Another war is inevitable, and the Republic has to seize the upper hand. We can’t allow a repeat of the Sacking of Coruscant on any Republic world. As for your choice of apparel... Let us simply say that it is one thing for an ordinary citizen to wear something like you do. When you carry a lightsaber, however... The Jedi typically have a uniform dress code, as I understand it, and you would look to be a renegade Jedi at best, but most would take one look at you and decide that you are a Sith. With that being said, I agree with Major Cortland that it could make for an effective disguise.”

“I’ve been educating Faith in the basics of Sith philosophy and society that we know about in recent days,” Ralto said. “She’s become unusually curious, but I sense only a desire to do what is right from her. But what is important is that I believe your earlier observation, Major Cortland, and I agree with you, Senator. A brute force strategy would do little good in the tunnels of the Works, let alone in the Temple itself. An infiltration seems like the ideal plan.”

“What?” Faith asked, more than a little nervous at all the eyes on her. “You want me to go in there alone and pretend to be a Sith? I’m good, but I’m not good enough to take out everything and everyone in a place that big. And there’ll probably be real Sith in there, right? Won't they be able to, I dunno? Sense me or something?”

“Along with a large number of support troops, most likely,” Cortland said, only adding to Faith's worries.. “This should be strictly a reconnaissance mission. Get in, take in everything you see as quickly as you can, and then get out. Don’t raise any alarms and don’t make any trouble you can’t get out of.”

Faith chuckled and stretched her arms, highlighting her curves under her tight-fitting outfit. The idea of just taking a look-see was far more appealing than fighting an army. Once upon a time, Faith would have relished the latter, but she liked to think she'd grown up a bit. “No promises about not making _any_ trouble, but I can do this.”

“Very well,” Ralto said. “Then may the Force be with us.”

* * *

Faith was being marched through the muck of the Works with her wrists bound, her lightsaber taken from her, and a small platoon of Republic soldiers flanking her, along with a green-skinned, male Twi’lek Jedi she’d never met before.

The Works themselves were a marvel equal of the upper peaks of Coruscant's tallest towers, but in a far different way. A vast network of tunnels and machinery, the Works were the engines that kept Coruscant running. Droids maintained everything so that no self-respecting sentient being would have to come down here to work in the rust and the grime.

The remoteness and lack of appeal of the Works also made it a perfect hideaway for less than reputable citizens. Or, in the current situation, Imperial soldiers looking to hold their main position at the Jedi Temple, at which one could find one of the Works’ many exits.

As Faith and her 'captors' rounded a corner, she reached out in the Force and undid her restraints as she called her lightsaber from the Jedi’s robes back to her hand.

The Republic soldiers quickly had their weapons out, but Faith was faster, hurling them all into the sides of the gigantic pipes with a push from the Force. The Jedi was left to square off against Faith unarmed, and a roundhouse kick to the side of his head knocked him out for the count.

Faith rose to her feet and brushed a bit of dust off her clothes. The ruse had hopefully served its purpose, and the soldiers and Jedi would be fine with a bit of rest. Not wasting any more time, Faith strode with all the haughtiness of a Sith Lord down through the pipes, following the map that she’d committed to memory as best she could.

A junction led to a smaller pipe, still large enough to fit a few men side-by-side, and Faith found herself walking upwards. She could hear voices coming from the other end as she approached a light at the end of the tunnel.

“Halt!” a crisp, British-sounding voice said. “Identify yourself.”

“Stand down, soldier!” Faith said as imperiously as she could, not breaking her stride. “If you must know, I am Lord Fidelis, and I’m here to inspect this sorry operation.”

When Faith emerged from the pipe, she found herself flanked by three soldiers on either side, all standing at attention.

“All right, troops. Back to your posts,” Faith said, trying to sound bored.

“Yes, my Lord!” the soldiers said as one.

Faith smiled and sauntered into the ruins of the Jedi Temple, which was even more impressive on the inside. The main chamber was a huge dome of various kinds of stonework, and only some of it lay in ruin. A great deal was intact, and soldiers were standing guard at almost every such inch of the Temple.

So far, Faith hadn’t seen any actual lightsaber-wielding Sith, and she hoped she wouldn’t run into any. Refocusing her thoughts, Faith set out to do what she was here to do.

Keeping her pace at a stride with her head held high, Faith played the part of the haughty Sith Lord with aplomb if she did say so herself. None of the troops dared to question her, and she only saw a very few Sith apprentices, all of which wielded only training blades.

“You there! Sith!”

Faith looked up to see who had called out to her and saw someone standing on an upper level of the Temple. A rim of whatever passed for concrete in this galaxy remained strong enough to support the weight of people quite high up from the ground.

Faith figured that the man calling her name could only be another Sith himself. Not wanting to disappoint him, Faith drew upon the Force and leaped into the air, flying meters upon meters to land in a crouch next to the other man.

As she rose to her feet, Faith saw that the cloaked man was horribly pale and sickly despite his young age. She’d heard that the Dark Side took a toll on those who wielded it, but Faith hadn’t truly understood until seeing it for herself just now.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“I am Lord Anev Xydes,” the bald young human said. “Who are you?”

“Lord Fidelis,” Faith answered in her best commanding voice. “I’m here at the behest of Imperial Intelligence. They want an update on the progress here.”

“You don’t sound Imperial,” Anev Xydes said in a harsh, almost-British voice. “And I received no word of an impending inspection.”

“My family’s from Corellia,” Faith said impatiently. “We serve the Dark Council the same as you, the same as Imperial Intelligence. We’re all instruments of their will, and you are going to update me on the progress here. Now!”

Faith stared down the Sith man for a few silent moments before he started to smirk. “I must say, in my years as Sith, I’ve never had the privilege to work aside one as attractive as you, Lord Fidelis. You must have many faithful allies.”

Faith let a smirk of her own cross her face, despite the fact that the man in front of her was more repellent than any human man she’d ever met. “You can be one of those allies, Lord Xydes, if you play your cards right.”

“`Play my cards?’" Xydes said with a shake of his head and an evil grin. "You Corellians are quite strange, but I take your meaning. But, business first. What do you wish to know?”

“Recent developments,” Faith said, trying to remember her ‘script,’ “have made finding the truth difficult to discern. I understand that Darth Angral’s son was recently killed in this very building. That would be under your watch, wouldn’t it?”

“Lord Tarnis foolishly exposed himself to the Jedi,” Xydes countered hotly. “And his mission was still a success! Darth Angral has the Republic weapon designs and is pursuing the Jedi who murdered his son. That is not your concern.”

“You’re right,” Faith said. “Darth Angral’s business is not mine. But his son, Lord Tarnis, _did_ die under your watch. Or are you not in charge of overseeing this Temple?”

Xydes grimaced. “Darth Angral does not blame me. Nor should you. Do you understand me, Lord Fidelis?”

Faith grinned predatorily. “Perfectly. Moving on, I’ll need a full accounting of your assets here, along with a list of whatever else you need to continue ongoing operations.”

Xydes nodded. “I have those documents in my quarters. If you’d care to accompany me there?” he said with a predatory grin.

Faith suppressed the chills that threatened to run down her spine and smiled back. “It would be my pleasure.”

Xydes gestured for Faith to follow him through an arch in the wall. Faith followed him through a short corridor to a room that looked like it did overtime as bedroom, office, and command center.

“Business first,” Faith said quickly. “My Master has ingrained a certain set of priorities into my mind. I find it best to follow those priorities.”

Xydes nodded, but Faith could sense his lust building as he grew more impatient. As he handed her a datapad of information, Faith fed on his desires by sitting provocatively with one leg crossed over the other as she perused the information.

The first pad was the most important: a roster of all the Imperials stationed here, along with their rank and title, if applicable. Faith saw a number of privates, corporals, and sergeants, only a few lieutenants, and three majors among the military. Twelve acolytes, five apprentices, and Lord Xydes himself were the only actual Sith listed.

The rest could wait, Faith figured, and she tossed the datapads aside. “Priorities aside, business can only give a Sith so much satisfaction. I’ve been too long without the touch of another man who could keep up with me. So many these days are… lacking in the areas that count.”

Xydes let out an ill-sounding laugh. “I assure you, Lord Fidelis, I do not lack for anything.”

“Then prove it, big boy,” Faith said, rising from her seat and stretching her curvaceous body. “Clothes off. Now!”

Xydes rushed to comply, and Faith suppressed a laugh at how easily this Sith was manipulated, but then she remembered the first line of the Sith Code. ‘Peace is a lie, there is only passion.’ Lord Xydes was nothing if not passionate.

Faith removed her jacket and flipped her boots off her feet. Her pants and top followed until she was only in her black lace undergarments that were her only souvenirs from back on Earth. She pondered keeping them on, wondering which idea she disliked more: her womanhood touching this Sith, or her only piece of home.

Personal comfort won out, and Faith kept her underwear on as she leaped onto Xydes, straddling him as he fell onto his soft, cushioned bed.

“You are quite a woman, Lord Fidelis,” Xydes breathed.

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Faith said with a laugh as she squeezed her thighs closer together.

Xydes’s breath became harder and rougher as he groped her body. “Lord Fidelis,” he gasped.

“Shh,” Faith said with a finger to his lips as she tightened her grip on his torso. “There’s a good boy.”

Faith traced her finger down from his lips to his chin and then his throat, which she clamped her fingers around and held on tight.

Xydes struggled against Faith’s superior strength, but he only used up his remaining air quicker.

“There’s a good boy, Anev,” Faith cooed wickedly. “Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon.”

Xydes’s eyes widened with shock and rage, and Faith felt him trying to call on the Force.

With one quick motion, Faith snapped Xydes’s neck, killing him instantly.

Scrambling off of the Sith’s sickly, pale body, Faith felt the need for a long, deep bath. But first things first. She put her clothes back on as quickly as she could before moving over to the array of technology that Xydes would no longer be using.

She saw that his desk station was monitoring a number of Republic frequencies, receiving from many of them but sending to only one, which looked to Faith’s amateur eye to be offworld somewhere.

Taking a holo-communicator out of her pocket, Faith pressed a button and waited.

Master Ralto’s image flickered into being. “Faith! Are you all right?”

“Just peachy,” Faith said, trying to forget the feel of the Sith’s clammy skin against her own. “There was only one Sith Lord here, but there are a few apprentices and acolytes, along with some troops. I’m sending you lists of their personnel and gear right now.”

“Receiving,” Ralto said, and Faith saw him gesture to someone out of her holocom’s view. “You said there ‘was’ only one Sith Lord. Is he…?”

“Dead,” Faith confirmed. “Come on over and take your Temple back.”

Ralto breathed a sigh of great relief. “Thank you, Faith. You’ve done a great thing for the Jedi and the Republic. And it’s our Temple. Yours mine, and every other Jedi’s. Try to make the most of it while we’re here on Coruscant. And Faith… Thank you.”

Something in Ralto’s voice spoke to a level of gratitude that Faith didn’t understand, but she didn’t question it either. It was unusually pleasant for a Jedi. “You’re welcome,” she said at last.

“I’ll see you shortly. Ralto out.”

The holocom flickered off, and Faith stood in Xydes’s study alone. Faith sat down at his desk and decided to pass the time honing her skills with the aurebesh written language. There was a thin paper book in front of her, and Faith began to read aloud to help herself understand.

“‘My husband’s nightmares grow worse,’” Faith read. “‘He speaks of a world covered in perpetual storms and twilight, and he senses a growing darkness.’”

Faith picked up the small book and read the cover.

“‘The Journal of Bastila Shan.’”


End file.
